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obscure-imagines · 8 months

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wet dreams - Zoro

🍃staring. Zoro Roronoa x afab!Reader

⚔️ preview. The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, wet dreams, hand job, blow job, dirty talk, praise, exhibitionism (sex outside in the Crowsnest), cum play/swallowing, fingering, mutual masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, big dick zoro, fingering, overstim, mutual orgasm, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel.

🔫 rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I wc. 3.7k

⚔️ aus. One Piece Live Action, pwp, acquaintances to lovers, etc…

🍀 mlist + an. I showed Sanji and Mihawk some love so I figured I might as well adore my big three and make it a full set with Zoro.

Zoro is exhausted. His body feels heavy as he lumbers around the ship, his footfalls a little too loud on the wooden deck. His eyes are practically shutting on their own, but he resists the need to nap.

He's been having problems lately... when he sleeps.

While he's able to keep himself mostly in check around you during his waking hours, his mind - and body - have been betraying him in dreamland.

He's woken up five nights this week with the soft sounds of your moans etched into his memory and his pants ruined with the sticky truth about his feelings for you.

Naps had once been a time of rest, but Zoro has been anything but restful since Luffy convinced you to join the crew two weeks ago.

Zoro hates feeling like he's not in control. He hates the way you seem so real in his mind's eye, only for him to wake up and watch you acting completely indifferently toward him- as if he didn't just watch you go down on his cock in explicit detail- as if he didn't just try to fuck you so hard you couldn't even walk-

Being around you is something like torture. His tongue gets tied, his heart races, and he's unable to hold a conversation with you about anything unrelated to piracy... and even then, he stumbles over his words and gets frustrated with himself.

You're just too beautiful.

The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.

He does his best to be the last to go to bed, out of fear that someone will walk in while he's sleeping and hear his problem, hell, he wouldn't be shocked if they could even see it.

It's not even midday and Zoro feels like death. It doesn't help that it's hot out. The wind feels practically nonexistent. Everything is stale, sweaty, and full of tension. Even Sanji, who usually dresses in formalwear, has stripped himself of his button-up, opting for an undershirt instead.

Then there's you. Your shorts don't leave much to the imagination, and Zoro has to tear his gaze off of you every time you get within his line of sight. His cock is practically throbbing in his pants anytime you're nearby- anytime your soft scent lingers in the air when you walk past.

"You look like shit."

Zoro sighs at Sanji's words, refusing to look at the chef who's come to lean on the rail next to him, staring out at the sea.

"I mean it. And I'm not trying to be a dick, but seriously moss head, you look like you need some rest," Sanji presses on. "When was the last time you had one of your famous Roronoa naps?"

"I wasn't aware they were famous," Zoro sighs, this conversation is making him even more tired.

"We all know you get a little scratchy without your beauty sleep," Sanji smirks. "Go on, get some rest. It's a shit day, and it will be even more shit if you're in a bad mood. I'll wake you up for dinner."

Usually, Zoro wouldn't do anything Sanji suggests, he wouldn't even entertain it- but the idea of a nap is having a visceral effect on him. He's reminded of the exhaustion that's overtaken him, and the harsh sun is only making things worse.

Zoro lets out a deep breath. "I guess I could use a little shut-eye."

You let out a loud whimper as Zoro drags his tongue across your neck, holding you close on the deck of the ship. Above, the stars are twinkling, but to the swordsman, all that matters is you. He can hardly see anything else, his mind completely blank except for the feeling of your hand stroking his cock.

"I need more," you tell him, applying just the right amount of pressure.

He's tried dissuading you from sucking his cock, but you're absolutely insatiable for him. Stroking isn't enough, and the promise of filling you up all nice and snug doesn't satisfy you either- no, you want him in your mouth, and you're very verbal about it.

Who is Zoro to deny you?

With a sigh, he agrees, and you sink to your knees immediately.

God, you look beautiful like this.

Your thumb strokes the head of his cock, rubbing through precum as you bring your mouth closer.

You're always a bit of a tease, licking at him gently, pumping his shaft. Zoro can't help but release a small groan, eyes fixed on you, waiting.

When you finally take him into your mouth, Zoro moans, his head lolling back as he enjoys the feeling.

"That's it, angel," he tells you, reaching down to grab at your head, helping you find a rhythm. "Just like that."

You take him so deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat much too easily. The feeling of you choking around him has Zoro's abdomen clenching, and a familiar sensation is growing in his balls-

It's as if you can read his mind, your hand snaking up to massage his most sensitive area while you continue practically gagging yourself on his cock.

The sound is absolutely obscene, and Zoro's never heard anything so pretty.

"If you keep sucking like that, I'm going to cum," he warns you, wanting to hold out to finish in your perfect, needy little cunt-

The way you suck on him even harder makes Zoro think you want him to cum. You want him to release down your throat, want to swallow him up like the good girl you are.

Again, who is Zoro to deny you?

"Fuck, angel," he groans, orgasm rising even faster. "You're always so good for me."

You whimper loudly around his cock, stroking your tongue along the vein that runs the underside of his length while squeezing his balls, and that's all it takes for him to cum.

He lets out a grunt as he shoots his load down your awaiting throat, his brows knitted together in concentration and something close to overstimulation. He whispers your name, over and over like a mantra while you suck him dry, eager for every single drop he can give- you're his greedy little angel, and he loves you with every fiber of his being.

You pull off of him when he's done, staring up at him with eyes that reflect the stars above. Then, you stick out your tongue, proving to him that you'd swallowed all he had to give.

Zoro can't help but reach for you, lifting you back onto your feet so he can grab your face and press his lips against yours eagerly.

He treasures the moments you're in his arms, and there's something so satisfying about the salty taste on your tongue-

"Dinner!"

Zoro sits up so fast he nearly falls out of his hammock. His heart is thundering in his chest, and when his eyes quickly dart to the door, he sees that Sanji hadn't bothered to enter, only called out a word of warning.

Swallowing thickly, Zoro looks down at his pants. He can feel his cum, hot and sticky against his skin, his half-chubbed length angrily confined by pants.

Zoro's not sure who's more upset about being woken up from his dream, himself, or his cock.

Luffy has already gone through half the food by the time Zoro saunters into the dining area. The swordsman's eyes are downcast while he takes a seat next to the captain, and you're kind of glad for that- you want to watch him, but you doubt you'd be able to make eye contact with him right now.

Your skin tingles with the forbidden knowledge that you now have. Your mind keeps replaying the scene you'd walked in on not half an hour ago; Zoro, asleep, his brows knitted together, your name on his lips.

You hadn't stayed long upon finding him in that state, your skin too hot with the realization of what you'd just witnessed, and now, that fevered sensation returns.

You've always had a bit of a crush on Zoro, but you'd never in your wildest dreams imagined that it could be returned. Out of everyone on the ship, Zoro interacts with you the least. He practically avoids you, and you've just spent two weeks thinking he doesn't even like you-

No, this changes everything.

The man with green hair lifts his gaze, and your eyes meet momentarily, only for you to look away, skin flaring again. Your heart is practically beating out of your ribcage, and you can feel your panties sticking uncomfortably to your core.

You'll have to do something about this. You're not sure what- but... you definitely can't go much longer with this kind of unresolved tension. One dinner with a dripping pussy is enough.

You decide you'll have to confront Zoro, and something tells you that you'll thank God for doing so.

Once everyone is asleep, you slowly tiptoe out of the sleeping quarters. Zoro has been staying up late, keeping watch in the Crowsnest, and you feel like that's a perfect place to talk with him. There's no way he can escape... unless he jumps into the ocean and risks his life- but you don't think it will come to that... or at least, you hope it doesn't.

Carefully climbing the ladder, you think of all the things you can say to him. You're not sure where to even begin, and as you make it to the top, poking your head through the manhole to stare at Zoro's broad shoulders, all the words you'd planned slip your mind.

He hasn't noticed you yet, and it takes closing the ladder cover for him to finally hear you, whipping around with his hand reaching for one of his blades.

Zoro freezes. You both do.

Then his hand drops to his side. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought..." you bite at your lip, "I thought you might want some company."

He gives you a quick once over, then turns to look out at the sea again. "I'm good."

"Why do you act like you hate me so much?" you sigh, ignoring his dismissal and moving to join him.

"I don't act like I hate you."

"You hardly talk to me."

"I'm not a big talker."

You let out another exasperated sigh. There's some truth in what he's just said. "Then I'll talk."

"Go ahead."

Staring out at the sea, you're once again at a loss for what to say. After a few moments of silence, you decide to just... put it all on the table. "I walked in while you were napping earlier."

Zoro goes rigid next to you.

"What were you dreaming about?"

He's quiet, then he turns to look at you. "Sword fighting."

"I didn't think you'd actually lie to me," you frown.

"Who says I'm lying?"

"I just- I don't think sword fighting would lead to you moaning my name over and over."

Zoro looks out at the sea again. "You must think I'm some kind of pervert."

"Trust me, I don't," you assure him. "I'm kind of curious about what we were doing in your dream."

He sneaks a glance at you, and there's a hint of a smile that curls onto his pretty lips. "Yeah?"

You nod. "Maybe... maybe I've been having 'sword fighting' dreams too. We could... compare notes, or something."

Zoro lets out a laugh, shaking his head. The chuckle dies down into a groan. "Fuck." He grips the railing tighter, taking a deep breath. "You really wanna know what we were doing in my dream?"

"Yes, please."

The swordsman turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You were down on your knees, sucking the fucking soul out of my cock."

If your panties hadn't been ruined at dinner, they're definitely ruined now. "I was?"

"Uh huh. You were begging for it. Begging for every last drop."

Your mouth practically waters at the idea. "And did you give it to me?"

"Of course I did," he says softly, scanning your face. "How could I not?"

"Should we..." Your skin heats at the words about to come out of your mouth, "Can we make that dream real?"

Zoro sucks in a shaky breath. "I think I have a better idea."

"A better idea than me sucking your cock?" You're shocked.

"You're always so good to me in my dreams, maybe I want to be good to you."

Your pussy throbs at the insinuation of what he's saying. Most men would jump at the chance to have your mouth around them, but it looks like tonight, the swordsman wants to be the one pleasuring you-

He's just like the Zoro from your wet dreams, and you have a suspicion that when it gets down to it, he'll be even better.

You can't help yourself any longer, you practically launch your body at him, throwing your arms around his strong shoulders while his hands catch you. Your lips meet as if it's the most natural thing in the world, a soft groan escaping him when you swipe your tongue across his mouth, already eager for entrance.

The kiss deepens, and his hands grip you tighter, pulling you flush to his chest. It feels absolutely insane to be actually doing this in your waking hours- nothing your mind could conjure up compares to the real Zoro-

You can feel his cock already pressing against your hip and it makes you whine loudly, shoving your hand between your bodies to cup him through his pants. He's as big as you imagined he would be, and your pussy flutters with interest.

"Zoro-" you whimper, already needing more.

You've been waiting too long for this, for him-

He groans. "Say that again."

One of his hands joins yours between your bodies, but his slips under the waistband of your shorts, deft fingers rubbing you through your panties.

"Fuck, angel, you're already soaked-"

"Zoro!" you moan, louder this time.

"Tell me you want my fingers."

"God, I need them," you gasp when he leans in, pressing kisses and tracing his tongue along your throat. "I need you inside of me- any of you, I just- I need you!"

"Good girl," he says smoothly, pushing your panties to the side.

His fingers make contact with your dripping cunt, and he teases your pussy lips, just dipping inside enough to coat his skin before he circles your clit.

You cry out, squeezing his cock harder-

"Enough of that," Zoro practically slaps your hand away from him. "Tonight is about you. Let it be about you."

"Fuck, you're too nice to me-"

"Trust me, you deserve it." His fingers sink into your pussy and you moan loudly, leaning forward to begin peppering his own throat in kisses. You thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him close as he begins pumping his digits in and out of your wet core.

You can already hear yourself- the sick squelching of your pussy as he works you open. His palm rubs against your clit, creating a delightful pressure that has your legs shaking and your toes curling.

"You sound so pretty."

Who knew he'd be such a sweet talker.

In the exhibitionistic privacy of the Crowsnest, with the crew sleeping soundly below, Zoro is showing you his true colors, and you couldn't be happier.

No one has touched you like this in too long- but then again, has anyone ever actually touched you like this?

You can't believe how close you already are to cumming. Your skin tingles and you moan louder against his neck, moving your mouth up to suckle on his earlobe.

Zoro groans, and the sound goes straight to your aching core.

"Close already?"

All you can manage is a nod, your eyes closing as you focus on the pleasure of his fingers pumping into your wet hole. "Please-"

"You can cum for me," he tells you. "I wanna hear it."

You can hardly even stand on your own. If it weren't for his strong form, steady under your grip, you're sure you'd be falling. His free palm is on the small of your back, keeping you snug to his front while his fingers work you closer and closer-

"Zoro," you whimper again, feeling tears in your eyes from how tight the coil in your stomach has grown.

"Be a good girl and let go for me. Come on, I know you can do it."

You let out a strangled half sob as your high slams into you. Your entire body tingles with electric energy as your core clamps onto his fingers, which continue inside of you, working you through your orgasm. You shake against him, digging your nails into his shoulders while you whimper and moan, lips pressed to his throat.

"That's it," he praises you, a steady guide through one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

You nearly black out, only for his fingers to slow inside of you, drawing you back into your body. Zoro removes his hand from your pants, and you listen to him suck his digits clean, letting out a small groan at your taste.

"Can I lay you down?" he asks next, tone gentle.

You nod, unable to speak. Zoro softly helps you onto the wooden floor of the small Crowsnest, staring at you with dark eyes that seem to sparkle in the moonlight.

He slowly undresses you, watching as you lift your hips to help him remove your shorts. Your shirt and bra are next, and he's careful to set them nearby before removing his own clothing.

"You still want to do this?" he asks.

"There's nothing I want more."

Once he's naked, Zoro gets between your thighs, holding himself over you while you wrap your legs around his hips. You grab at his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss.

His hard cock is too enticing for you not to touch, and soon, you're gripping it while your tongues battle. His moans are music to your ears, and you swipe your thumb over the head of his length to smear his skin with precum.

"You know-" he swallows thickly. "After today, after watching you cum on my fingers, I might not last that long."

"That's okay, I won't last long either." Your pussy is already aching for him again, and from the way his cock twitches in your hand, you know he's as into this as you are. "Just fuck me Zoro, please."

He kisses you deeply, allowing you to guide him to your wet hole.

He's big, but you're soaked, and slipping into you is much too easy. He sinks all the way in, his hips flush to yours when he bottoms out. You moan into each other's mouths, and you grab his face, wanting to keep his lips on yours as he begins to thrust into you.

"Fuck, Zoro, it's so good-" you whimper, pussy clenching tightly around him to earn another sound of appreciation.

"Angel, you're fucking perfect," he agrees, pace already quickening.

The sound of skin on skin fills the night air. You open your eyes, looking up at the moon and stars. It feels natural to be with him like this, under the watchful eye of the heavens-

Your nails dig into his shoulders when his hand adjusts your thigh on his hip. He drives deeper into your wet hole, and each thrust has your head spinning.

You can feel him everywhere, and it's the first time you've ever really felt full, complete.

"Zoro," you whisper, gaining his attention as you draw his lips back to your own.

You get lost in him. His cock is filling you perfectly, and his lips feel like they were made to be on your own.

That familiar tightening in your lower abdomen builds much too fast, and each thrust has Zoro grunting and moaning even louder-

"Fuck, angel, I'm close-"

"Me too," you assure him, pressing your forehead to his own and staring into his eyes. "You'll cum with me, right?"

He can only nod as you slip your hand between your bodies, fingers rubbing your sensitive clit-

Your core tightens even more around his thick length and Zoro lets out a deep moan-

"Shit," he mutters, "where should I cum?"

"Inside," you insist. "Cum inside, I'm on birth control, please, I want it, I need it-"

Zoro's hand balls into a fist on the wooden plank by your head, and he groans. "Can't wait-"

"Me neither," you whisper, eyes closing as the feeling ravages your body, "Cumming-"

Zoro buries his face against your throat as you both reach your highs. You can feel him painting your inner walls, making you even more full than you already are with his cock- it's the most delightful feeling.

Your toes curl as he fucks you through it all, his pace even harder than before, if not a bit erratic. The sounds he's making will be something you never forget, and you cling to him like a lifeline, tracing his muscular shoulders and gasping-

It's as if your orgasm lasts ages, and when Zoro's motions finally begin to slow, it's hard to even catch your breath.

He begins to press kisses along your throat again, working his way to your ear, and then your mouth.

You can't help but grin into each soft press of his lips against your own.

"You look happy," he muses.

"That's because I am. Are you happy?"

"Very."

Your smile widens. "So we're done not talking and pretending to be indifferent to each other, right?"

"Completely done."

"Good, because I don't think I could go back to that."

"Me neither," he admits.

"I like you a lot."

Zoro presses another soft kiss to your lips, his pretty eyes twinkling with emotion in a way you've never seen from the swordsman. "I like you too."

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! If you liked this, check out my fics for Sanji and Mihawk :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here

#zoro roronoa #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa smut #roronoa zoro smut #opla smut #zoro opla #opla zoro #opla #one piece #one piece smut #one piece live action #zoro x reader

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goldfish-afterhours · 5 months

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Genshin Characters as Fairy Tales

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao x Gn!Reader

Type/Genre: Bulleted headcanons, angst/fluff

Warnings: Not all fairy tales have happy endings—major character death

Notes: Man why are fairy tales so sad

Diluc

Cinderella

On the night of your 18th birthday, your father holds a grand masquerade ball, inviting everyone in the kingdom

You, however, had little to no interest in such things. While the party was happening inside, you decided to take a stroll in the gardens

Who knew there would be monsters lurking in the dark that got past the guards?

Before it could devour you, someone sliced its head off with one fell swoop

Standing in front of you was a man with red hair, a black masquerade mask obscuring his eyes

You thanked him and offered him a reward, but he declined. Upon seeing your disappointed expression, he suggested just spending the night talking with him, since he didn’t know anyone at the ball

The two of you sit outside, talking about anything and everything as the night grows later and later

Just as the clock struck twelve, the masked man jumps to his feet, muttering something about how he has to get home

You try to persuade him to stay, or at least tell you his name, but he dashes off so fast you can’t catch up to him

All he left behind was your memory of his soft smile…and a black mask, dropped in the grass

You scour the entire kingdom for him, holding up the mask to every person you meet in hopes you find him, but to no avail

But a crazy idea pops in your head

Deep into the night, you stroll down the main street, unarmed. Just as you expected, a group of hoodlums threaten you, demanding money in exchange for your life

And just as you expected, the man with red hair returns to save you again

For saving your life twice, you insist on giving him a grand reward

You bring him, the son of a deceased and disgraced ex-government official, to the castle, and the two of you live happily ever after <3

“I was afraid you didn’t want to see me again. But putting yourself in danger was much too reckless.”

“That’s how much I wanted to see you again~”

Kaeya

The Little Mermaid

Kaeya, a merman, falls in love with you, a pirate

He’s always swimming beside your ship, listening to you sing with your shipmates of treasure, of good alcohol, of friendship, of love

Gives away his voice to have legs and be with you. He doesn’t want to just listen to your songs—he wants to be the one you sing them to

Cruelly, you fall in love with someone else

His brother, in an attempt to save Kaeya, presents him with a dagger, saying if he is able to kill you then he’ll be able to return to the sea as a merman

But how can Kaeya kill the one he gave up everything for?

How can he even dare imagine hurting the one he loved with his entire being, that he would be willing to walk on glass everyday for?

Throws the dagger into the water. As the sun rises, he watches you, laughing together with your lover, as he melts into seafoam

And as much as it pains him, at least he can see you happy one last time

You don’t see him as he is carried away by the wind

“No matter what…I hope you live happily.”

Childe

Little Red Riding Hood

He’s the Big Bad Wolf, and you’re an herbalist making your deliveries of medicine to your patient in the forest

At first, he’s too nervous to approach you, afraid he would scare you away

But one day, when he sees you shivering from the frosted air, he steels himself enough to offer you his red scarf

The smile you gave him as you wrapped the scarf around yourself was almost enough to heal the years of loneliness from his isolation in the woods

The two of you become friends: Childe shows you all the best spots to pick herbs, and you tell him stories of the outside world

The villagers fear him, a man-eating beast, so he never ventures out of the forest

Childe loves the sound of your voice, and he loved listening to your stories, especially this one story about how the Sun and Moon were lovers in a tragedy, separated in the sky

Protects you from the hostile wild animals in the forest

When the two of you realize you were in love with each other, you made no haste in moving into his cozy cottage

But when the villagers realized their beloved herbalist was in the clutches of the detested wolf, they all swore you had been tricked

They stormed the forest, armed

You come back to your cottage from picking herbs, just in time to see the villagers point a rifle at him

Even with your skills, there is nothing you can do but cradle him in your arms as his blood stains the grass red

“C-Can you finish the rest of the story? I want to know…if the Sun and the Moon ever meet again.”

Zhongli

Sleeping Beauty

In the wild overgrowth once known as the country Liyue, there exists a legend of an almighty god who had fallen into a deep slumber

To save your country, you set out to search for this missing god

The terrain is harsh, overrun with trees and thistles and bushes blocking your every way

But occasionally, you will stumble upon a statue, vines and moss adorning the structure, helping you to believe that perhaps there really was a civilization who lived here in the past

The wild guides you up the cliffs, into a cave where you find a dragon sleeping, his breath slow and shallow

There was something so lonely, so sad about this sleeping dragon, trapped deep in the country of a long-gone civilization, only able to wait for someone to come

You put your hands on the sides of his face, and, as if to reward him for all his years of waiting and to tell him he is no longer alone, you kiss his forehead

The moment you do, his scales scatter away like droplets in a summer rainstorm

You were no longer holding a dragon, but cupping the face of a man

His eyelids fluttered open, revealing amber eyes that glowed like the moon in the darkness of the cave, and you knew you had found your missing god

“Oh…you have found me. How long I’ve been waiting for you.”

Xiao

Beauty and the Beast

With each passing day, Xiao can feel himself transforming more into a monster

The weight of his sins grew heavier and heavier, covering him with ashes and feathers

Soon, there were rumours of a half bird beast flying over the village at night, searching for its next meal

You, an orphan that had been treated as an outcast since birth, was chosen by the villagers to be the sacrifice to quell the beast’s anger and hunger

But after being brought to his decaying castle, Xiao makes it clear he has no interest in eating you

In fact, he gives you free reign in his home, allowing you to go wherever you pleased

At first, he tries to scare you, tries to get you to stay away from him

But when you see him feeding the chipmunks outside, and the songbirds feel safe enough around him to perch on his shoulders, you no longer feel afraid

The two of you slowly warm up to each other. Xiao’s favourite thing to do is listen to you read

When he can’t fall asleep at night from the pain, he asks you to read him stories so he can fall asleep to the sound of your soft voice

You come to realize he’s not a monster but a hurt, scared boy who only wants to wake up from this nightmare he’s been trapped in

The two of you enjoyed your peaceful life together, until one day a hero from your village stormed Xiao’s castle, determined to either save or take vengeance for you

Xiao, who flew over the village every night to make sure no danger came to the villagers, could not bring himself to defend himself from this naive boy

As you hold his still body, you kiss him goodbye

To both you and the hero’s shock, the feathers stabbed into Xiao’s body dispersed, swirling into the sky

The feathers kept flying away until the beast you were holding in your arms became human again

“You’ve awoken me from a terrifying dream. Thank you.”

please comment/reblog if you’ve enjoyed! <3

#listen I did not expect it to get this dark #my writing #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin au #genshin headcanons #genshin angst #Diluc #Kaeya #Childe #Xiao #Zhongli #Diluc x reader #Kaeya x reader #Childe x reader #Xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios

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theundercoversquid · 7 months

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Little Lamb PT2

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Summary: Maybe Luca wasnt the butcher, maybe he was the savour

Warnings: I saw the request from @birdyman-momon at 11:54 p.m., and by 12:33, it had been written and formatted! So I hope it is good and that you enjoy it! For some strange reason, the inspiration hit, and I couldn't not write it! (I am publishing this before I have the opportunity to talk myself out of it!)

Part 1: Little Lamb

Masterlist

If someone had told you three years ago on your wedding day what your future held for you, you would have scoffed at them. There was no way that being married off to Luca Changretta would be a good thing for you. No, you would have laughed and said that your family had signed you off to a life of mystery. You would have told them that your family had thrown you to the wolves. That you were a Lamb sent to slaughter.

But no, you would be wrong. Getting married to Luca Changretta would be one of the best things that had ever happened to you. On your wedding night, Luca never even touched you. The closest he ever got was to drape his jacket around your shoulders.

He never forced you to do anything that you were comfortable with. He let you lead at your own pace. Doing things how you wanted to do them.

The day after your wedding, he took you on a date. Showering you with gifts and his attention.

As if he could sense your apprehension, he did nothing to make you uncomfortable. You could tell that he wanted to return home to New York, but he did not pressure you to do so.

So when, 6 months after being married, you told him that you wanted to go home to New York with him, his face practically split in half from the grin.

His accent was thick as he told you about all the things that he wanted to do with you and all the places that he wanted to show you. You could feel his excitement catching on, and soon, you could feel yourself smiling along with him.

And well, going to New York would be something that you would never regret. The moment the ship left the harbour, you felt as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulder. You were no longer a Shelby. You were a Changretta, and you knew that Luca would never make you do anything you didn't want to do. He would never do to you what your family had done to you.

So when he carried you over the threshold of your new home, you gave yourself up to him in the most primal way. Bearing your body and soul for him. You let him see all the ugly bits and all the beautiful bits, and never once did he flinch.

Life only got better from there. You settled into life in New York. Surrounded by people who loved and appreciated you. The air and the atmosphere suited you far better than the coal-infested air of Birmingham. A place you vowed never to return to as you cut off all contact with your family. While they had given you Luca, they had thrown you to the wolves, knowing that you could be ripped apart.

Life only continued up from there, with you and Luca renewing your vows on the third anniversary of your wedding. So you could both properly celebrate your union, surrounded by happiness and the people that you loved.

Right then, on that day surrounded by a family that loved you, you would have told anybody willing to listen that it was the best day of your life, that there was no way it could get better.

Whilst you may have been right. You were also wrong. As life had much more happened in store for you. Surrounded by your husband and his family. But most importantly. Surround with the love of your husband.

Tag list: @birdyman-momon @miojodetomatin @siriuslyblackonback

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x sister!reader #peaky blinders x y/n #luca changretta x reader #luca changretta imagine #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta x shelby!reader #Luca Changretta #f!reader #x reader #Imagine

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foreingersgod · 1 month

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Hi, I just read the Caitlin Clark x tennis reader. Would you possibly do a Caitlin Clark x volleyball reader, where the reader is more femme. Something along the lines of maybe reader plays for Texas vb and wins the championship.. sorry for the poor wording. Keep up ur amazing work!!

-anon

i would love too! again, i apologize for any inaccuracies in how i wrote the volleyball aspect of this, i’ve never played before so bare with me ! <3

Championship . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin supports you during your big win

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

you had been working your ass off this season. it was your senior year at the college you attended and your last year playing volleyball with your team, you were very overwhelmed to say the least. there were so many nights spent on the court late at night, trying to perfect every move and every technique. you desperately wanted to take your team to the championship and win this title for them.

so you pushed yourself to your limits, still trying to maintain your grades and personal life. caitlin, your girlfriend, was incredibly understanding of course. she knew what it was like to want to win so bad, so bad that it felt like you were going to lose your mind. but she kept you grounded. you had always been there for her with basketball, and she wanted to show you that same appreciation for your dreams.

she attended every single game, often making the trip with you for away games. she’d bring flowers for you on occasion for your big wins, and she’d tend to bruises on your knees from diving and scrapes on your arms. she was so incredibly good to you.

you were lucky to have someone who understood the stress of the game and how it felt to struggle with wanting to win and not let down your team.

your hard work had paid off this season, though. thanks to your team, your coach, your family and friends, and especially caitlin. you led your team to victory and you were now heading to the final game in the champions ship. of course, your training remained intensive up until the game, stretching you thin.

the night before your game, caitlin made sure to treat you to a small night in to help you relax. she set up a movie and dinner, tended to your aching shoulders, completely shifting all of her attention to you. when you had woke up the next morning to get ready for the big day, she had even helped you get ready to help keep your mind at ease.

“you know i can braid my own hair, right?” you were finishing up your makeup, putting on some mascara and the lip gloss cait had gotten you for your anniversary a while back. caitlin had walked into the bathroom, offering to do your hair for you so you didn’t have to worry about it.

“yea i know, but i want to do it for you this time” she smiled at you through the mirror “like my way of sending you good luck, then you’ll know i’m always with you even on the court”

“that’s so sweet, cait” you turned around, pecking her on the cheek “just don’t do it too tight, please”

so there she stood, towering over behind you, twisting the 3 strands of your hair into a braid. her tongue sticking out slightly as she stayed focused on getting it perfect, just how you liked it. when she was finished, she proudly showed it off to you. you thanked her again before changing into your uniform and grabbing your bag.

once you arrived to the court for the championship, you and caitlin walked down to the locker room so she could give you a quick pep talk and a final kiss goodbye. “you’re going to absolutely kill it, babe, good luck!”

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

after ages of waiting in the locker room; getting warmed up, strategizing with your team, talking with your coach, it was finally time to head onto the court. you could hear the entire audience cheering as the announcers called on each one of your teammates, the anticipation for the game sat thick in the air.

the game started off well, everyone was quick on their feet, prepared for the opponent’s next move. you were probably having one of the best games in your career and you could just about feel that trophy in your hands. you had managed to hold a lead for the majority of the game, but within the last few minutes it tied, all boiling down to one last play.

you held your breathe as your teammate served the ball, watching as it sailed over the net. you stood ready, feet planted, heart racing, and determined more than you had ever been. the ball bounced back and forth over the net before eventually hurdling your way. your muscles tensed, eyes glued to the ball. you leapt, body a blur of motion, hand connecting with the ball in a perfect spike. Time seemed to halt as the ball soared over the net, bypassing the outstretched arms of the opposing team. the crowd erupted into cheers as you all watched the ball land on their court. you had scored the final point.

your team immediately surrounded you, lifting you up and cheering your name. there were so many tears and so many hugs as you all cherished the win of your last game together.

once the excitement died down with your team, you noticed caitlin on the side, making her way over to you. you smiled so big your cheeks hurt, running over to her as fast as you could. caitlin scooped you up into her arms, spinning you around from how fast you ran into her. your head buried itself into the side of her neck as you cried tears of joy, her arms squeezing you tight.

“i’m so fucking proud of you baby” she whispered in your ear, praising you gently and setting you back down on your feet “the best fucking player out there, hands down”

“thanks, cait” you beamed, pulling her back into another hug. “i can’t believe it”

“i can! you’ve been working your ass off for four years to get to this point! you deserve it more than anyone, YN” she said, watching how you bounced with excitement.

you and caitlin celebrated a little bit more on the court before you had to spilt to go talk to your friends and family, she waited patiently for you, observing how happy you looked taking pictures with the trophy and talking to your friends. it was such a rewarding sight to see, she was the most proud a girlfriend could be.

even when you had both arrived home, still buzzing with the post-win high. she showered you with praise and attention, making sure you knew how happy she was for you.

cait made you feel so special, no matter how sad the loss or how big the win. you were so privileged to have her at your side, supporting you through such an amazing collegiate career.

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wcbb x reader #wcbb #iowa wbb

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

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pt II our flag means death but I've never watched it

HELLO OFMD FANDOM! It's the Good Omens Mascot and Resident Dumbass, back again for part II. First, let's clear the air of all controversy!

Some of you lovely maggots were kind enough to warn me about certain discourse about a salad spoon and also about a certain gentleman named Izzy. I was warned not to make assumptions and not to take sides, and I hear some members had to leave the fandom for a while because it got toxic. Maggots. All the rest of you. Worry not about me. I'm here to unite the OFMD fandom! How, you ask? By being so undeniably stupid in my own opinions that you all will have to unite to disagree with me. You underestimate the power of my dumbassery. Well, let's not dilly dally and dawdle, here's the updated summary:

I have been informed there is cannibalism on this ship but it is not real. Someone pretends to eat someone and then their wife helps them fake their death while they run away from the ship though their lover wanted them to run to China.

There are BDSM lesbians, which is honestly such a slay, Pinterest has let me down by not informing me of that when I made Part I. I will no longer be using Pinterest a reliable source in future academic essays.

Mermaid Stede performs necromancy while a song called Kate Bush plays (I don't know who this is, a politician? Idk whether of US or UK).

Gravy Basket is a destination and Buttons is a sea witch and there is educational stabbing. Buttons is then a bird because of the BDSM lesbians.

There is a lady who is extremely beautiful and intimidating and powerful and she has twenty husbands and I assumed incorrectly that you were all talking about a Jack Russel terrier.

Let's start with the controversy! Izzy. Secondary protagonist or antagonist? Good or bad? Kindly father figure or homoerotically charged friend? Necessary death or not? No no no. Behold:

I present a new question, a hot take sizzling from the pan: Did Izzy really exist?

Personally, I firmly believe that no, he did not. I believe that the rum on the ship was spiked with hallucinogens.

Izzy was simply the manifestation of Ed's Freudian subconscious, taking the shape of a human being, vaguely resembling a humanoid potato Ed was forced to boil as a kid. I was a psychology student with a final grade of 99% and I accept only destructive criticism on my posts thank you. Feel free to discuss whether he boiled the potato in a fit of rage or whether he was forced to.

There are assorted Ned's, Mary's and an uncertain number of Jeff's on ship.

One of the Jeff's is an accountant, and there is a nonbinary talking sword named Jim. Actually I'm not sure if they talk.

Love you all, rooting for the show to be renewed.

REMINDERS. Be polite to each other in the reblogs, on tumblr reblogs spread posts and not likes (which don't do anything for visibility) unlike other social media sites, but MOST IMPORTANTLY.

I ACCEPT ONLY DESTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, THIS BLOG IS A GODLESS, LAWLESS LAND, AND ALL RAGE AT EACH OTHER MUST BE REDIRECTED AT ME. UNDERSTOOD? YAY.

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the-badger-mole · 3 months

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So your post having reminded me of that awful comic again I decided out of curiosity to delve into the Kataang side of the fandom to see if any of them ever talked about this comic and Aang’s behavior. Apparently the consensus over is that it’s OOC of Aang. To quote:

“I find his behavior to be very odd, too rude, self-centered and outright aggressive, especially the part when he exploded the volcano on Katara's face nearly hurting her, he was angry about Katara refusing to talk about the kiss then directed that anger into firebending which it isn't right for Aang as an Air Nomad to use the aggressive emotions to bend fire, then despite his apology which feels hollow he dismissed he was even worried about her getting burned again.

While Aang has flaws and outbursts sometimes this behavior strikes me to be unreasonable and OOC.”

Which is pretty funny to me because he literally said he’d be in the avatar state if he could over the play shipping Zuko and Katara. If he didn’t have his chakra blocked he absolutely would have gone into the avatar state and had a destructive tantrum. I wonder do they think those moments in the canon show are OOC of Aang too?

Your Ozai and Aang parallels are sadly spot on. The fandom is just too blind to see it because the narrative tells us rather than shows us he’s the hero. I really want to see into Bryke’s mind because they continue to baffle me 20 years later.

Yeah, Aang in the comics tracks with who he was in the main series. He was always self righteous, disrespectful and emotionally unregulated, but he was cute and cheerful, so a lot of people tend to overlook that. Remember how disrespectful of SWT culture he was in Bato of the Water Tribe? Yeah...that's never walked back. Of course he would make sure his only airbending child had no connection to his SWT roots. Aang is prone to tantrums, and his emotional outbursts include bending. Like you pointed out, as has been pointed out so many other times, Aang saying that he would have gone into the Avatar State over that play suggesting Katara was interested in someone other than him is a massive red flag. That whole scene on the balcony comes after the Lava Fissure incident. With that context, Katara saying she was confused instead of outright refusing Aang takes on a really dark meaning.

But people are entitled to their takes. A lot of Aang fans want to ignore the comics as canon. That's fine. I can totally relate. I ignore the comics and LoK as canon, too 😏

Zutara fans 🤝 Aang fans

ignoring canon

#atla #anti aang #anti kataang #zutara

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wisellamawerewolf · 4 months

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I feel sorry for people trying to coherently analyze this mf:

*Rant under the cut*

I've seen people speculate that Adam hides his bitterness towards Lucifer behind his rockstar-like persona, because Lucifer essentially doomed his children to eternal suffering. Or talking about his friendship/partnership/relationship with Lute, ect.

Now, if it was a better show and didn't know anything about VivziePop, I might have been inclined to believe you, but honestly? I think the only reason Viv decided to make Adam a main antagonist for the season is because she could write Lucifer saying: "haha I fucked your wife". Well, this and maybe also to hammer in the "Heaven is hypocritical" narrative.

Honestly I wish people who try to look deeper into the character wrote the show, because this guy lacks a coherent motivation. And no, "I'm bored" is not a good motivation for someone who by his own admition commits a genocide of his own children.

To be fair, he also mentions how humanities was supposed to worship him but like... Why? Is there something in hellaverse version of bible about Adam? Is Adam like a legit deity in this universe? And even if the whole speach was just supposed to showcase an insane level of entitlement he has, I've gotta once again ask: why is he like that?

In my general review I mentioned how he straight up broke the lore with his existence, and I want to elaborate on that a little: Adam was supposedly created BEFORE the evil seep into the earth, but despite him and Lilith being created as equals and I assume roughly at the same time, he just demands control? For no apparent reason? And angels were not at all concerned about it? There's also no signs of favoritism towards him, because we don't know what other angels even think about him. I guess they like him enough to not kick him out of heaven, and they kinda correct his behavior sometimes, but there's zero significant characterization we're getting from the fact that he's in heaven. Honestly a single episode following him and the life in heaven in general could've given us so much, but then there wouldn't be any time left for the millions of other VivziePop's characters to show up and do jackshit, and we can't have that.

He might have been an interesting pick to pin against Charlie and her father if anyone but Viv were to write him, but as always, she had an interesting idea she completely failed to execute, because she's just not interested enough in it.

As to his relationship with Lute... Honestly, I have no idea what are they supposed to be besides maybe a boss and a subordinate. They have a total number of ONE dialogues, where they talk about Vaggie being an ex-exterminator.

The rest of their "interactions" are:

- Adam makes a remark, Lute nods;

- Lute makes a remark, Adam counteracts with another remark, often in a detached way;

- A single fist bump;

- Adam smiled at her before death.

People treat him smiling at Lute before his death as some sort indicator of character, but I think it was either an attempt to give some sort of last-minute charaterization to two hollow cardboards or just a cheap drama/shipping fuel. Lute NEVER showed she liked him once before his death scene, and even it was too vague to say certainly. It was never showed that she felt any emotion towards him or anything he says, at this rate this girl might also be madly in love with fucking air, because she also show zero reaction towards it.

In a way, I kinda find it funny how Adam calls himself "the original dick" while he is an embodiment of VivziePop's male characters: he's an overly confident genocidal maniac who makes misogynistic remarks, constantly talks about sex, swears every few seconds and has a big toothy grin.

He behaved the same as Angel Dust or Alastor, but the reason we're supposed to hate him is because he *checks notes* has a pastel color scheme and is fat, apparently??? I'm honestly not sure it was supposed to be the same as "Moxxie is fat" joke or Adam is really supposed to be fat, but do uh... do artists working on your show know that? Because in some scenes there's literally zero indication of him being fat:

Unless of course he hides a giant dump truck of an ass under his robe.

Concerning his possible return in the second season: idk, I don't really care? His addition so far has been very superficial, but Viv might like him enough to actually bring him back in a demon form and either kill him off the second time, or woobify him like she did with a couple of other "flawed" characters. I honestly doubt we will get more from this guy regardless if he's gonna reappear or not. I'm not even sure if the proper backstory is gonna save his character at this point, even if we're going to get it in the second season (I'm VERY sceptical that it will happen).

Conclusions: he's as flat as a cardboard cutout. Had the potential to be interesting, I liked him in concept, but the execution is lacking as always. I guess the fact that he was voiced by Alex Brightman is neat, and I liked his song from the first episode, but that's about it.

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique

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cursedvida · 8 months

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SAD EYES, BROKEN SMILE V (Buggy x f!Reader)

PART IV // PART VI

WARNINGS: Smut, Minors DNI please go away. I mean masturbation, dirty talk, vaginal fingering and a lot of +18 things babies.

N/A: From now to the end the series are starting to be very hot, sorry not sorry. But yeah porn with feelings.

The confrontation with the marines was not complicated, it was just a ship without a very powerful captain, so it was quite easy to finish them off. As everyone witnessed -part- of your skills, you decided not to hold back in a battle anymore. You didn't show your full potential either, just enough to get rid of a few cadets while leaving Buggy free to show off in front of the whole crew.

At the end of the battle, Buggy decides to celebrate the victory using the barrels you stole from the navy ship. Another party of many on Buggy's pirate ship, it almost seems like a habit to end up all drunk on beer and rum. You must admit you've never drunk so often before.

While the musicians begin to play a song and you hear the laughter of some of your crewmates, you feel that someone is watching you. Buggy has his eyes on you, those eyes that you like so much and that you have imagined looking at you that way a thousand times. You feel the lust and desire in them, which excites and overwhelms you in equal parts. Buggy pretends to listen to his subordinates while still paying attention to you, he takes a sip from his beer mug without taking his eyes off you. You watch him from the corner of your eye, not taking your mind off what has happened this morning: the wet taste of his mouth, his hands roaming your body, his fingers in places no other man has touched. You swallow saliva, you want him as much as he wants you, you feel a tightness in your chest too great, you feel like something inside you is going to explode.

You need some air, so you decide to withdraw for a moment, get away from the people. You go down to the cellars so you can breathe for a moment. You think that you are being unconscious, that you are getting too carried away. Who is this person non capable of thinking clearly? Since when do you let yourself be carried away by absurd desires and give up a mission on a whim? That's not you, you don't recognize yourself. You've never had time for that kind of nonsense, why is it different now? Why with him?

"Do you like to meet in this place?"

You recognize that voice instantly. As you look up there is Buggy, your captain, standing in front of you with his eyes bright from the contrast they make with the dim light in the room. You keep wondering what his face must look like without so much makeup, what his lips must taste like without the aftertaste of face paint. You lose your senses again and all the questions and reproaches you asked yourself earlier disappear.

"I thought you wouldn't remember" you say in a whisper "you were really drunk that night."

Buggy approaches you slowly, never taking his eyes off you. When he's at your level he lifts your chin gently with his fingers.

"Not that much" he admits, cocking a smile.

Your heart starts pounding at the thought of him maybe kissing you at a moment's notice. At times like this you wish your life had been otherwise, more normal, less violent. Then you could have had an ordinary adolescence, met some boys, had some experiences. So, at least now you wouldn't feel so ridiculous for not knowing how to react when a man calls out to you.

You look away, somewhat self-consciously.

"You fought very well today…" You comment shyly, radically changing the subject.

"I admit I went too far" he forces your chin to look back at him "but it's just that those suckers interrupted me at a very important moment, and I really can't stand that."

A nervous giggle escapes you. God, what a fool you are. You feel ashamed of yourself.

"Buggy, I…" You move closer to him, melting into an embrace. His smell makes you feel good, in a safe place.

The captain doesn't know how to react, after your hot encounter this morning he thought you were going to go on the lust attack without too much thought, but that embrace so warm, so intimate, has caught him totally off guard. Today he watched you fight, he watched with pleasure as you knocked out those navy pigs without ruffling your hair, it made him even hornier than he already was. But when you hug him like that, like someone holding on to an iron beam so as not to lose his balance, he realizes that maybe you were right and he was really underestimating your feelings. That maybe not a purely sexual attraction.

"I don't know what's wrong with you" you confess, hiding your face in his chest so you don't have to look him in the face "But you make me feel so silly."

"Well, that happens to a lot of people when they discover my incredible wit" he boasts, trying to take the intensity out of the situation.

"It's not because of that" you reply softly "it's just… I really like you a lot. I'm not playing games."

And he realizes then how vulnerable you are being in his arms. Your honesty about emotions is something that always catches him off guard but at the same time touches him. How can you be so insanely honest? Fuck, it feels like you're playing at leaving him unarmed.

"I want you so badly," you tell him in a whisper, and it unleashes all his most primal instincts.

Buggy lets out a sort of wild animal-like growl. You then notice how he lifts you into the air, sitting on one of the barrels in the hold. You are now almost at the same height. He looks you in the eyes again, his nose brushing yours.

"You're a dangerous little girl" he strokes your hair with an open hand and a certain paternal air "very dangerous."

At that moment you give him a gentle kiss on his nose. It's something you've wanted to do for a long time because, contrary to what he thinks, you don't find it horrible, but appetizing in a way. You don't know how he's going to react to such an action, but when his gaze changes, turning wild, you know you've pressed a button from which there's no turning back.

The next thing you know, Buggy has taken hold of your neck, kissing it, biting it, leaving a trail of red paint on your smooth skin. You've triggered his wild side, his hands are no longer as soft and slow as they were this morning, now they don't hesitate to strip off your shirt, leaving you in your bra. His mouth runs down your collarbones, down your chest and finally you notice how his tongue begins to slurp the top of your breasts. On the other hand, his hands run along your waist, down to your buttocks to remove the shorts you are wearing. Before you know it you are almost naked in front of him, noticing how your cheeks suddenly turn red.

You grab his hair, pulling off his hat and then his bandana to realize that his hair is actually longer than you imagined. Strands of blue hair falling over his face. You notice your cheeks red again, for some reason you find him more handsome than ever.

"Buggy, I've never…" you're embarrassed to even say it, seeing him so thrown. He looks at you, his pupils dilated with excitement "I've never… been like this with anyone."

The idea of being the first one able to go that far with you doesn't seem to disgust him, quite the opposite. There is a smirk on his face, he feels so full of himself. He knows that you are giving him a privilege that you have not wanted to bestow on anyone else, only him, which swells his pride considerably.

"Then I'll have to make sure you have a great time," he replies to you, mischief in his gaze.

He spreads your legs then and bends down slightly, removing your panties to expose the most intimate part of you. You notice your cheeks light up just before you feel your whole face burning. Buggy is kneeling, staring at your crotch with an almost famished expression.

"Don't do that, I'm embarrassed."

He lets out a laugh just before he approaches your wetness. That's when you gasp at the contact of his tongue with your intimacy. Buggy starts to move his tongue expertly, trying to find your clit, while you do your best not to lose your balance. One of your hands goes to his hair, while the other tries to hold on to the barrel. You feel totally vulnerable, exposed to this man who has decided to make of you whatever he wants because you let him. His tongue running along your pussy, finding that sensitive area that makes you let out a huge moan of pleasure.

"Mmm, there it is" he relishes, looking at you for a moment.

You watch him, panting, spread-eagled in an absolutely obscene position that, at the same time, excites you enormously. You love being at his mercy, moaning every time his tongue caresses your clitoris, sucking expertly as you let out sighs and sounds you never thought could come out of your mouth.

"Fuck little girl, it's fucking wonderful when you growl like that" he comments just before he starts eating you again.

You notice how he has pulled his hands away from your body. As he continues to lick your pussy, he removes his gloves in midair. His hands go to your back, unclasping your bra. You are now totally naked before him. Your breasts glisten in the light of the room, your nipples are erect and Buggy's hands begin to caress them, pinching them as his tongue works faster and faster.

You let out a cry of pleasure, you can't repress it, there are too many sensations at once.

Buggy makes one of his hands reconnect with your arm, pulls his face away and starts stroking you with one of his fingers. As he jerks you off, he sits up slightly, moving closer to you. His makeup is smudged. He gets close to your ear as he inserts one of his fingers into your vagina.

"You have no fucking idea how you have me right now" he comments, as you hold your breath as you feel him insert himself into your cavity "Fuck, gorgeous, you're so tight. I think we're going to have to do some work on this."

You hold onto his neck so you don't lose your balance as you feel his finger advance inside you. Buggy grabs your wrist, pulling your hand to his crotch. You can feel the huge bulge, hard and throbbing, noticeable under his pants.

"See?" he asks, staring at you before kissing you. His mouth is salty, tasting of your own fluids, something that manages to turn you on even more "That's how you got me. That's how you get me my little minx."

"Buggy…" you moan. Slipping your hand under his pants to touch his erect member. You've never done anything like this before, but instinctively you begin to move your hand, guided by the expressions of pleasure he puts on "Like this?"

"Perfect. Mmmm... good girl" he growls, sinking his head into your neck.

He pulls his finger out from inside you and starts stroking your clit while you do the same with his member. You both start moaning at the same time, Buggy looks at you then, notices your half-open mouth, your burning cheeks, your watering eyes. He revels in that virgin face discovering sex while you try your best to give him back all the pleasure he's giving you.

"You're a insane craziness" he whispers to you without taking his eyes off you "you're going to fuck my life".

You are not able to answer him anything, you notice that you are close to orgasm, each time the waves of pleasure are bigger and bigger.

"Buggy, I think… I think…"

"Hold on a little, baby girl. I'm almost there."

You try to hold back, biting your lower lip trying to stifle your moans. You wiggle his cock quickly, noticing how he gasps slightly. He wiggles his finger more as well. You both start moaning at the same time.

"I'm going to fucking cum" he gasps.

"Me too" you moan, almost unable to hold it in.

"Fuck!"

At that moment you notice how pleasure invades your whole body, rising from your lower belly to all your extremities. Your legs even tremble, you can't modulate your moans, you start to scream disconsolately as your body fills with spasms. You feel your vision blur for a few moments and, when you want to realize it, you are half dead on one of his arms while the hand holding his cock is completely stained. He has also cum and his face is resting on your tits, breathing heavily. You feel your heart racing.

"Fuck me" he sighs, looking up.

For some reason you see him looking more handsome than ever, more attractive than any other time. At that moment, if he asked you for anything, you'd go to hell itself. He gently pulls you up. With the hand that was holding you so you wouldn't fall, he pushes your hair away from your face. He smiles then, looking quite pleased.

"You're definitely going to ruin me."

And then he lets out a tremendous laugh.

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chaos-grimlin · 1 year

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Hi author, this is a rather strange request , but still. Can you please do Stu macher and Billy Loomis with a female reader. Billy decides to take a break from the relationship, Stu agrees with him saying they need to cool down a bit. The reader was upset, but after a while she realized that she was much better off without them . About a week later, Billy and Stu are invited to a party where y/n was. They see her with a new boyfriend who turns out to be her best friend. She tells them that she wasn't happy in her relationship with them, the relationship was killing her, but from the beginning she didn't realize it, but after this pause she realized that she was not happy, but happy with the new boyfriend and asks them not to spoil anything. I apologize for the errors in the text, English is not my native language.

Ah! Hi anon!! Sorry it took forever to get to this BUT here it is!! I hope you like it!!! Also you didnt clarify if it was another friend other then in the friend group, but you didnt So ima make us get with someone in the friend group❤❤

Not how it was suppost to go (Billy loomis and Stu macher x female reader )

^^^3rd person P.O.V^^^

At first, everything between the three seemed fine. Their relationship seemed picture perfect, but, behind closed doors, it was just sex.

Every other day if one of the boys were horny they'd have their way with her till her legs were weak, so that was all she knew.

She thought that they loved her and this was their weird way of showing it.

At first it was more then sex, but Billy and Stu got bored of her. Her beauty never made their hearts flutter anymore.

"Hey Stu come here" Billy hissed out as he leaned agaisnt the door frame of Stus house.

Stu looked up at Billy and nodded. "Ill be backkkk" Stu said to Y/n in a sing song voice.

Y/n let out a forced giggle as Stu pulled himself from her hands and walked off, leaving her alone in the cold living room.

A sigh escaped her lips as her hands gripped onto the soft fabric of the couch. Her eyes scanning over every inch of his fancy living room, the same living room that they had fucked her in not to long ago.

"Stu.." Billu said in a hushed tone as he pulled Stu away and into the kitchen.

"Hm?" Stu hummed out as he snatched an apple from his counter and bit into it.

"I think we should leave Y/n" Billy said, crossing his arms with a stone cold look plastered onto his face.

Stu stopped chewing on his Apple and looked at Billy as if he was stupid.

"Why?" Stu huffed out with a mouth full. "Its nothing but sex and heh im damn sure not attracted to her personality. Shes got a fine body but I'm not interested in her anymore."

Stus brows knitted togeather, forming a wrinkle between his brows then he swallowed the bite of apple he had chewed.

"Yeah your right... We might need to cool down for a bit" he said with a shrug.

"Well lets go break the news" Billy huffed out, rubbing his temple.

Stu let a sigh out and threw his almost uneaten apple away and wiped the juice off of his hand. "This will be fun" he said as he followed Billy into the living room.

^^^y/n P.O.V^^^

I rubbed the inside of my sore thigh as i felt brusies form on it.

"Hey Y/n honey, me and Stu need to talk to you" Billy said as he sat on my left and Stu sat on my right. "Talk away" i said, feeling a forced smile tug at my lips.

"Me and Stu think that we.. Should take a break from our relation ship"

I felt my heart crack slightly. "What?" I whispered, barley finding my voice.

"We should split up" Stu said blankly.

I left my bottom lip start to quiver as i looked between the two.

"This...is this a joke?" I said, feelings tears build up in my eyes as i saw them shake their heads no.

My heart sank to my feet and o felt my throat close to the point I could barley breath.

Out of reaction i stormed to my feet and sped to the door. Ny hands fumbled with the knob before i quickly pulled it open and ran out.

The cold night air hit me like a brick as i slammed stus door shut.

I stood on the steps of his house as tears pooled from my eyes.

I couldn't stand to stay there...

I rushed off his steps, almost tripping over my own two feet.

My breathing was unsteady and was all i heard as i walked.

I thought everything was perfect... But...maybe i was wrong...

~~~1 week later~~~

^^^3rd person P.O.V^^^

Y/n sat next to Randy on her couch, leaning her head onto his shoulder as she drunk the cheap beer thst Randy got.

"So, they just left you?" He asked.

"Yup... After i cut everyone off...and they just left me.. They didnt seem sorry" She muttered, recalling the night she ran home crying and ended up calling him.

"Thats a shitty move" he said "hell if you were my girl i wouldn't even dream of leaving you" he muttered under his breath as he turned the beer bottle up.

"What did you say?" Y/n asked, taking her head off of his shoulder and looking into his eyes.

"Nothing" he said. Knowing she'd never feel the same about him.

"Randy what did you say?" Y/n asked, fully sitting up and locking eyes with him.

Randy's eyes traveled from her eyes to her lips as he looked at her.

"If you were my girl id never even dream of leaving you"he sajd as he reached his hand up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Y/n went silent, her eyes looking into Randy's as if searching for what his feelings were.

Randy set his beer bottle down on the table next him and looked back at her, seeinf her face full of confusion.

Randy took in a deep breath before letting it all spill out "what im trying to say is i like you" Randy said.

Y/n felt shock travel through her body. She would have never guessed that Randy meeks, liked her.

Randy shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he waited for her to answer.

Y/n couldn't find her voice, the words seems stuck in her throat, so all she did was grab Randy's and press her lips onto his softly, starting their relationship...

~~~2 weeks later~~~

^^^3rd person P.O.V^^^

"Come on in Loomis and Macherrr!!" a drunk boy said as he slung the door open for the two.

Billy and Stu walked in, eyeing the flood of people, looking, looking for her.

"Didn't see tell someone she'd be here?" Stu whispered to Billy. Billy nodded as he clenched his fist.

Billy quickly made his way to the living room...

^^^y/n P.O.v^^^

Randy twirled me around slowly as a string of giggles left my throat.

Randy pulled me to his chest and kissed my forehead. "I love you" he whispered to me "i love you too!" I said back.

Getting with Randy made me realize how unhappy I was with Stu and Billy.

Once i had opened up to Randy hs told me that they were only using me for sex, and i realized he was right. I had loved them 100% of the time and they didn't even love me back. But now... I finally found the one...the one that treats me right and loves me more then words.

I saw Randy look to his left at the Tv, but then i saw his eyes harden. "Whats wrong?" I whispered running my hand along his chest.

"Your ex's are here" he hissed out.

I turned to follow his gase and sure enough... There they stood...

I gripped onto Randy's shirt tightly once i saw Billy's hand pulled into a fist.

Soon... The two boys stormed up to us, and billy was ready to punch the hell out of Randy.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Billy screamed.

"Her getting into a better relation ship thats what" Randy said, trying not to raise his voice.

"Nothing can be good when its you you goddamn geek!" Billy yelled, pushing Randy.

"Billy fucking stop it! Leave us alone!" I said, getting infront of Randy.

"Why?!" He said, getting closer to me

"You guys broke up with me i found someone that im actually happy with!" I said, crossing my arms.

"So please don't ruine it" i said. By now, everyone was watching us.

Billy and i locked eyes before he stormed off and dragged Stu with him.

I looked back at Randy and quickly hugged him.

I wasnt going to let some lowlifes ruine something i love so much

#billy loomis #stu macher #randy meeks x reader #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader #casey becker #randy meeks #billy loomis and stu macher x reader #scream

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ginnsbaker · 11 months

Text

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (12/22)

Chapter summary: Wanda and her therapist discuss the topic of forgiveness; During a 6-miler running event, Kate accuses you of forcing Yelena to stay away from her; after which you find Wanda and her new friend in the same event

Chapter word count: 6k | Warnings: None | Ship: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader

Author's note: Enjoy :)

AO3 | Masterlist

Next Chapter: Thirteen

Twelve

The heavy raindrops dance in an intricate rhythm upon the streets of New York City, as Wanda’s gaze returns to Dr. Calliope Williams. She is seated opposite her, wearing the kind expression that always soothes Wanda in an unexplainable way. Mid-sentence, while sharing an anecdote about her time with you in college, she realizes you’ve been the topic (yet, again) for a while now.

"I've been going on about her too much, haven't I?" Wanda looks down at her hands, her fingers woven together.

“We can discuss whatever is on your mind, Wanda. I’m just here to listen and help you navigate those thoughts.” Calliope assures her with a warm smile.

As Wanda observes the gentle patter of rain on everything it touches, a question lingers in her mind. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” she wonders aloud.

“What makes you think she hasn’t?” Calliope asks.

"She’s moved on," Wanda argues, cracking her knuckles and twisting each of her fingers almost painfully. The bitter memories of your anger, the hurt she endured during those stormy weeks, remain vivid, imprinted on her soul. She can't erase the cruel image of you leaving her half-naked in her own bedroom as she pleads with you to stay.

None of your actions back then gave any indication that you wanted to forgive her.

“She's found someone new, someone who can give her the love and stability and trust I failed to provide. How can forgiveness exist in the face of that?" Wanda asks.

“It isn't bound by the presence or absence of a romantic relationship, Wanda. It transcends those circumstances. It’s about ultimately granting yourself and others the freedom to heal and move forward,” Calliope explains softly. “But, going back to your question, I’m afraid Y/N’s the only person who can answer that for you.”

“I know that. But I can’t really talk to her about it, can I? If I wanted to upset her, I definitely could.” Wanda sort of chuckles towards the end, her shoulders slumping slightly. All the amicable conversations she’s had with you over the past months were expertly navigated to avoid dredging up your shared, painful past.

"When the time is right and when both of you are ready to discuss it respectfully, you can approach her," Calliope tells her.

"And what if she never forgives me?" Wanda's voice trembles, recognizing how plausible that could be. "What if I've irreparably damaged what we had, what we could have been?"

Calliope leans in, underlining the gravity of her following words. "Wanda, it's important to recognize that you cannot control Y/N’s response or dictate the path of forgiveness for her. What you can do is show genuine regret, reflect on your actions, and strive for personal growth."

Uncertainty looms, casting a dark shadow. Being in control is one of life’s biggest illusions, and Wanda has fallen into its trap more times than she could count.

Pausing thoughtfully, Calliope tilts her head and says, "Wanda, I'd like to ask you something."

Wanda glances up, surprised to find her fingers clenched tightly into a fist. "What is it?" she asks.

"Do you believe you deserve forgiveness?"

The question hangs in the air, pregnant with implication. The rain outside seems to intensify, echoing the tumultuous emotions swirling within Wanda.

"I... I'm not sure," Wanda confesses after a beat. "I don't think I would forgive myself if I were her." A lone tear escapes her eye, streaking down her cheek, paralleling a raindrop sliding down the windowpane.

Calliope makes a noncommittal sound and then gracefully adjusts the glasses perched on her nose.

"Have you ever thought about forgiving your mother?" It carries a gentle curiosity–a clear footnote that there’s no right or wrong answer–delicately drawing parallels between Wanda's own experiences of betrayal and the concept of forgiveness itself.

“What does she have to do with this?” Wanda asks, her demeanor shifting instantly to a guarded stance.

“From what you told me before, your mother cheated on your father several times before she left you and the rest of your family. And your father, heartbroken, turned to substance abuse,” Calliope breaks off for a moment, knowing how being reminded of her tragic childhood continues to weigh heavily on Wanda.

“And that ultimately led to his death. Have you ever thought about forgiving your mother?” Calliope repeats the question.

Wanda's hollow grin etches the lines of bitter irony on her face.

“You can’t exactly forgive someone who isn’t asking for it, can you?” she retorts.

"You're right, Wanda," Calliope acknowledges, something akin to sadness in her tone. "It… It is a multifaceted process, and it becomes even more compounded when the person who has hurt us doesn't seek forgiveness or acknowledge their actions. It leaves us grappling with unresolved emotions and longing for clarity."

Calliope leans back in her chair, her eyes never leaving Wanda's face, contemplating the layers of complexity woven into their conversation. Wanda, on the other hand, looks suddenly withdrawn. Calliope can sense that her attention is divided, as is often the case when the conversation delves into her complicated relationship with her mother.

“Have you decided to answer her letters like I’ve suggested?” she asks Wanda, trying her best to seek out her avoidant gaze and rope her back to the present.

Wanda mumbles a no, face straight and devoid of any emotion.

“At least think about it,” she urges mildly. “It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow, or even next week. However, the longer you ignore the unresolved feelings you harbor towards your mother, the more profound your resentment may grow.”

Confusion flashes across Wanda's face, her brows knitting together in frustration. “I don’t understand why she needs to seek a relationship with me. She’s managed to deceive at least one of us. Pietro talks to her all the time.” Wanda states, her voice strained with a venom she can barely hold back.

Calliope's gaze softens as she considers Wanda’s statement. "Wanda, we have to keep in mind that everyone's choices and behaviors are influenced by their own unique circumstances and motivations. Although I can't speak directly to your mother's specific reasons, it's possible that her wish to reconnect with both you and Pietro comes from a place of seeking forgiveness and reconciliation."

Wanda’s face burns at the thought that her mother is capable of repentance. "But why both of us? Why not just focus on rebuilding a relationship with one child? It feels like she wants to have it all, to mend what she broke without fully understanding the consequences of abandoning her children."

Calliope observes the tension in Wanda's body, sensing that her resentment somehow also spills over to her brother who has chosen to keep a steady connection with their mother despite both of them experiencing the pain of her leaving. She can sense that Wanda feels a little betrayed by his decision, and somewhat insecure that in this situation, he’s come out to be the bigger person between them.

"I wish I could understand," Wanda murmurs, eyes falling shut. "She abandoned us when we were so young, leaving scars that still ache. How can I reconcile the desire for closure with the fear of being hurt all over again?"

Calliope gives her a meaningful glance, as if Wanda has unknowingly stumbled upon a puzzle piece.

Following a few silent moments, Wanda connects the dots with a look of remorse.

“Is… Is this how Y/N feels about me?”

Calliope nods slowly. “It’s possible,” she says. “Just as you struggle to reconcile your desire for closure with the fear of being hurt again, Y/N might be going through similar emotions. The pain caused by betrayal runs deep, and it can be difficult to trust again, even when the desire is there.”

Wanda's eyes shimmer with regret. "I never wanted to hurt her," she whispers. “I thought if–if I simply put a stop to it and she never finds out, I–”

“I know. But it’s human nature. We are disillusioned when it comes to control. We convince ourselves that as long as we're in control, we can evade the fallout of our actions," Calliope explains.

“Other people will never make the same stupid mistake in their lifetime.” Wanda points out, feeling a sudden envy towards those who have easily exemplified unwavering loyalty.

"None of us are immune to mistakes, Wanda," Calliope reminds her. "While it may feel as though others have effortlessly avoided the same missteps, every individual has their own struggles and battles. The path is unique for each of us.”

Wanda nods, feeling a little comforted by what she’s hearing.

Calliope slowly rises from her chair, her movements purposeful as she makes her way towards the desk adorned with a pen and a notebook. She’s eager to jot down her notes while the session is still fresh.

“And as much as I want to continue this, our time is up. Shall we reconvene next week?" Calliope proposes.

Wanda, caught between a sigh and a fleeting smile, agrees to the schedule. "Sure, Next week."

She hadn’t once thought that understanding her own feelings could lead to insights on yours. It makes her more than eager to keep working on herself.

***

It’s still dark out as you stand amidst a sea of runners at the starting line of a 6-miler event being held in Central Park.

You’ve been looking forward to this the entire week, and have been rigorous in your preparation, getting up at four in the morning just so you can squeeze in your training plan despite a busy schedule at work. Aiming for nothing short of a personal record for this run, you start doing some drills on the side, getting your heart up to speed and your muscles warm. It’s a relatively cold morning, a long-sleeved shirt provides just the right amount of warmth, and the leggings you wear are rather thick, but still offer flexibility with every stride.

As you’re nearing the end of your warm-up, a familiar silhouette approaches you, their features barely discernible in the dim lighting.

“What did you tell her? Did you tell her to stay away from me?” The voice demands, causing you to straighten up. Kate maintains a jog in place, looking rather uncomfortable in her windrunner, but it’s obvious that the scowl she’s wearing has nothing to do with the freezing temperatures.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, your breath forming a visible fog as you speak.

“Yelena initiated a transfer to another team,” she mutters impatiently. “And she requested a different mentor as well.”

The blaring sound of the alarm kicks off the countdown before they release the runners. Runners around you start to position themselves, their focus shifting to the commencement of the race.

"Yelena did what? I... I had no idea..." you say absentmindedly, your voice tapering off as you feel a sudden jostle from someone pushing past you in the queue. Honestly, you don’t understand what’s so concerning about Yelena making changes in her career.

“She’s putting her career in jeopardy. First of all, everyone on her new team is going to treat her as a competition because despite being a junior, she has already won an industry award. They'll be gunning for her, ready to undermine her success. And to make matters worse, her new mentor lacks the journalistic expertise she deserves. He's essentially the epitome of political maneuvering within the company.” Kate bombards you with her reasoning, just as the starting gun pierces the air, signaling that the 6-miler has started.

“Y/N! Are you even listening–”

On instinct, your feet hit the pavement in quick, measured steps, leaving Kate just a few meters behind as you stare blankly ahead. You had anticipated the weather and conditions of this race; what you didn’t see coming was finding out that in an effort to safeguard your relationship, Yelena had taken drastic measures, making a move that you had neither requested or approved of. Not that she needs your approval on such things, but you didn’t want to be the reason if it happens that the recent developments derails her career. And seeing how Kate has been nothing but respectful of Yelena’s decision to be with you and stay friends with her, it’s quite unthinkable for Yelena to do such a thing.

Though what’s troubling you the most is the realization that she's willing to make such sacrifices very early on, believing you to be deserving of them. Deep down, you find it hard to accept such unwavering dedication from her—or from anyone, for that matter.

As you push your body forward, immersed in the run, you fail to check your watch and follow your pace. Lost in your own thoughts, the race passes by in a blur, and before you know it, Kate is emerging from out of nowhere, sprinting all of a sudden to finish ahead of you. You both cross the finish line a mere five seconds apart.

As the organizing team places the coveted finisher's medal around your neck, you duck your head in humble acceptance before making a beeline for the hydration stations. The cool liquid cascades down your throat, replenishing your parched body after the arduous race. Kate trails closely behind, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"Y/N," Kate calls out through the post-race commotion. She regrets a little that she attempted to outpace you, pushing herself beyond her intended limits in a bid to reach the finish line ahead. Glancing at your watch, a smile unconsciously graces your lips as its record of your run confirms that you have indeed beaten your personal best. With the task of reaching your goal out of the way, you turn to Kate and finally acknowledge her.

“I’m sorry, I was aiming for a specific finish time,” you murmur as your smile turns strained. “I didn’t mean to literally run away from the conversation earlier.”

"It's all good," Kate gasps, a hint of discomfort evident in her voice as she tries to catch her breath. "But seriously, how on earth are you able to carry on a conversation like nothing happened? You just ran that entire distance at an incredible pace!"

You offer a lighthearted chuckle. “What do you mean? You beat me at the finish line!”

"Yeah, and look where it got me," Kate mumbles, her words punctuated by labored breathing. "I think I’m gonna pass out…"

“Whoa, there,” you stammer, concern flickering across your face as you reach out, gently grasping her elbow to guide her away from the bustling crowd. Kate allows herself to be led to a quieter spot where she can find some relief. Then, to alleviate the tightness in her breathing, she unzips her jacket, allowing fresh air to circulate and provide some respite.

"So, about Yelena..." you say, finding a bench and settling down in a cross-legged position. The weight of the news still lingers, leaving you unsure of where to begin.

"I assume you two have talked about me and..." Kate gestures wildly with her hands.

"We did," you affirm. "And if my memory serves me right, I simply suggested for her to give you some space.”

"Dude, why would I need space? What more space could I ask for since she moved out of our place?" Kate retorts, sounding slightly exasperated.

The word "our" catches your attention. It’s exactly why you think Kate needs space. Now that you’re aware of the depth of her feelings for your girlfriend, it’s not hard to spot the subtle clues she unknowingly reveals by the way she talks about Yelena. Your concern for her trumps the slight jealousy you feel knowing someone else is blatantly in love with your partner.

"Have you spoken to her?" you inquire, choosing to overlook her rants.

"Not exactly," Kate sighs. "I think she's upset with me for carelessly letting slip that we were friends with benefits."

"I'll have a word with her," you assure, offering Kate an extra sports drink you picked up from the station.

"I'd appreciate that," Kate replies, casually uncapping the drink and taking a prolonged sip. "Her career means the world to her. If she's not willing to reconsider, then I'll submit my resignation first thing tomorrow."

"No, Kate, you don't need to do that.”

Kate dismisses your worry with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "I'm wealthy," she states as if it's a mere fact. "I don't really need a job. I just need something to keep me busy."

Wanda finishes the same 6-miler event in record time. She notes that only a small number of female participants managed to run faster than her. In her mind, she's certain she could've overtaken them if she had kept up a steady training regimen. The reality is, Wanda only rekindled her interest in running when she started therapy. Calliope suggested that exercise releases natural endorphins that boost physical energy and mental focus throughout the day.

And besides, it felt oddly comforting to partake in a hobby that her ex-wife used to thoroughly enjoy, even if it's no longer an activity you both share. Running is one of those bridges to you that she wishes to maintain, an unbroken connection that she can enjoy privately, without the worry of hurting anyone in the process. A somewhat delicate balance between holding on and letting you go. Wanda used to think that her love for you had nowhere to go, but in learning to love herself, she had discovered that she can unearth traces of you–even in the tiniest moments that paint life with vibrant hues. Love doesn’t go away–it simply transforms.

After quietly dedicating her medal to you, Wanda’s about to start her post-run stretch, when she is interrupted by a soft touch on her shoulder.

"Excuse me?"

With a quick turn, Wanda shifts her attention to the person behind her. It’s the customer from a few days ago, the one with the captivating deep brown eyes. She instantly recalls how this woman had oddly requested a 'surprise me' drink, prompting a warm smile to spread across Wanda's face.

"It's you!" Wanda exclaims, recognizing the woman as she rearranges her ponytail into a messy bun.

“Yup, it’s me,” The woman mutters with a grin, delighted to run into Wanda at this event. “I couldn’t help but notice, you're fast enough to clock a mile in under seven minutes.”

"You think so?" Wanda replies, her cheeks warming up at the unexpected compliment.

She nods at Wanda with an infectious enthusiasm. “I’m actually a co-founder of a running club. We're mostly from Queens and Brooklyn. How about joining us?”

Wanda couldn't recall the last time she had been involved in a group or community outside of work. The thought of meeting new people–individuals that share a common interest and goal–fills her with childlike excitement.

“Oh, I would love to!” Wanda exclaims. “How often do you guys meet?”

Wanda listens attentively as the woman gives her a rundown of their weekly group runs and the list of running events they had decided to join as a group.

The woman then extends her hand towards Wanda. "By the way, I'm Valkyrie, but just call me Val."

Grasping Val's hand, Wanda feels the warmth from her palm seeping into hers. “I’m–”

"Wanda. I know," Valkyrie interrupts, winking at her slyly before releasing her hand. Just as Wanda is about to respond, the sound of your voice captures her attention, taking her by surprise.

“Wanda?”

Wanda's smile trembles slightly, the vulnerability in her eyes betraying her surprise as she hears her name uttered by you. All week long, Wanda had put up walls, deciding not to contact you in an attempt to make it easier to bear the ache of missing you. But the opposite proved true. The act of holding back only amplified the very thing she’s been trying to avoid.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly turns to face you, trying her best to appear casual, “Y/N!”

Your face lights up at the confirmation that it’s indeed Wanda that you’ve spotted in the crowd.

Leaving Kate momentarily, you dart towards Wanda.

“Hey! Did you run too?” you inquire as you reach her, slightly breathless. “I didn’t spot you on the course at all.”

Wanda feels a sudden surge of self-consciousness, awkwardly sweeping a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink, not from the exertion of the run, but from the self-awareness that she's soaked in sweat. She fights the urge to take a quick sniff of herself in front of you. “I, uh, started near the front, so you might have missed me,” she says, clasping her hands together, trying to hide the lingering dampness that clings to her skin.

"Damn, I completely forgot how insanely athletic you are," you say in genuine awe. "You must have crossed that finish line way ahead of me."

Barging in your conversation, Kate clears her throat pointedly from behind you.

"Oh, this is Kate," you quickly introduce, gesturing to your friend standing nearby.

"Kate Bishop," Kate reaches out her hand, giving a short, somewhat awkward wave.

Wanda reciprocates the gesture, mimicking Kate's awkward wave.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Wanda," Wanda says with a friendly smile, and then remembers as well that she has company herself. "Oh, and guys, this is..."

“Valkyrie. But everyone just calls me 'Val',” Valkyrie chimes in, finishing the introduction herself. Your eyebrows raise slightly as you take in the newcomer, realizing that you don't recognize her from anywhere. Wanda's circle of friends has always been small, and your mind is quickly consumed with thoughts of how they met.

“You and Wanda…?” you find yourself asking, unable to stop the question before it tumbles out.

“We, uh–”

“We’re–”

Wanda and Valkyrie both start to speak at the same time, before sharing a laugh, while you manage to maintain a tight smile on your face.

Breaking the brief silence, Valkyrie takes charge of the conversation. "I met her at the cafe earlier this week. I didn't know she'd be here too, so I asked her to join my running club."

Kate jumps in with a teasing tone, "Meet cute," causing you to whip your head towards her, a grave expression on your face.

“Y/N, you should come along too,” Wanda suggests enthusiastically, before quickly realizing that it wasn't her place to invite. She turns apologetically towards Valkyrie, “I mean if you're looking for more people. Y/N is pretty fast–”

“Not as fast as you,” you say to Wanda.

“–and really committed to running. Her consistency and work ethic is nothing short of impressive.” Wanda finishes coyly.

Valkyrie eyes you up and down skeptically, her gaze sweeping over your toned body, particularly over your calves and thighs as she makes her assessment based solely on your physical looks.

“If Wanda’s vouching, then I trust her,” Valkyrie says, shifting closer to Wanda, her hand lightly touching Wanda's arm.

A surge of discomfort stirs within you as you witness their interaction. You decide right away that you don’t like this Valkyrie person. Something about her just rubs you the wrong way.

“Wanda, can I have a word with you?” you ask, not managing to keep the sharpness out of your voice.

At your words, Kate looks at you expectedly, but you're too preoccupied watching your former spouse to notice it.

"Sure," Wanda agrees, slightly taken aback by your sudden request. As you both excuse yourselves, the pair of you weave through the bustling crowd, Wanda falling into step beside you.

You can't help but steal glances at Wanda as you both walk side by side, her striking profile softened by the warm sunlight bathing the park. You can feel the curious eyes of both Valkyrie and Kate following you from a distance, their watchful gazes prompting you to maintain a respectable distance between you and Wanda.

Once you've found a less crowded area, you pivot to face her, trying to marshal your thoughts into coherent words. Yet before you can speak, Wanda preempts you.

“I’m sorry I never replied to your last text,” Wanda blurts out as soon as you both come to a stop. “I was on my way to the cafe when you... and then I just forgot about it, and I only realized I left you on read the next day–"

"Wanda, it's fine," you interrupt gently, smiling softly as you observe her anxious rambling. "There's no need to apologize. Life gets hectic, and we all have those moments. How is Sparky by the way?"

“He's in better condition and has adapted to his new diet. I no longer have to force him to eat, which is definitely an improvement.” Wanda says.

“That’s a relief,” you say faintly. “I'd be more than happy to help out and take him in from time to time.”

“Yes, he'd really appreciate that,” Wanda affirms with a nod. “And I-I would, too.”

A ripple of nervous laughter passes between you before Wanda redirects the conversation back to your intended topic. "So, what was it you wanted to discuss? Is there something on your mind?" she inquires.

You swallow hard, the growing anxiety clouding your ability to articulate your thoughts. Then, a sudden spark of inspiration kindles your mind. "T-The club," you stutter, snapping your fingers as though you've just recollected a vital detail. "What's the story there? Can anyone join?"

“Val didn’t mention anything specific. But it seems like a private group. Perhaps it's by invitation?” Wanda suggests.

“And you think it's okay for me to be part of it?" you ask, uncertain.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

You shrug, your thoughts circling back to Valkyrie's smug expression and her tendency to invade Wanda's personal space. You couldn't help but sense that Valkyrie's interest in Wanda extended beyond recruiting a fast runner to the group.

And isn't it quite the coincidence that she bumped into Wanda at this particular event?

It just…doesn’t sit well for you.

(Or perhaps your trust issues are a lot worse than you think.)

"I don't think she's thrilled about me joining," you say. Wanda gives you a baffled look that you’ve always found so endearing.

“You can’t be serious,” Wanda dismisses. “We've just met her today, so I think it’s a little weird if she doesn’t like you.”

You consider challenging her perspective, but instead you offer a polite smile, keeping your reservations to yourself.

"I'll tell you what," Wanda proposes, "If you don’t join the club, I won’t either."

"Wanda–"

"I'm serious, I'd feel out of place if I didn't know anyone there–"

"I'm not sure," you retort, nonchalantly shrugging. "You seem to have hit it off with Valerie."

"Valkyrie," Wanda corrects softly, a suspicion in her gaze, as if she's attempting to decipher a riddle she can't quite solve. "Not really. I just met her the other day. She doesn't even frequent the cafe.”

“Not yet," you mumble quietly, your words barely audible. “Alright. Inform me about the training schedule and location and I'll make an effort to attend.”

“I'll do that,” she agrees, and the two of you lapse into comfortable silence.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Wanda questions after a while.

"Sort of. I mean, it was getting crowded over there, and I wanted to say congratulations," you explain, a bashful smile gracing your face.

“Same to you, Y/N,” Wanda finds herself whispering the words–as if caught up in a romantic comedy movie scene, with a montage of breezy moments where the best parts of life simply pass by. It’s a feeling that’s becoming hard to escape whenever you’re around, even under ordinary circumstances; just you–with no makeup on, smelling of sweat and grass and soil–seems to just captivate her so.

“Come on,” she says and unwittingly takes your hand, biting her lip the second she realizes the contact she initiated. But she couldn't simply drop your hand as if she had been scorched.

As you near the spot where you'd left Kate and Valkyrie, you pull your hand free from Wanda's grip. Taking a deep breath, Wanda briefly manages to suppress the sting of rejection that grips her.

"So, sorted everything out?" Kate teases, her tone slightly acerbic as she addresses you privately. You can tell that she likely knows who Wanda is and can perceive the undercurrent of tension. Taking a casual walk with Wanda, especially with Kate around, might not have been the best decision, but you rationalize that you're not doing anything wrong.

You shoot Kate a dirty look in return, then bid goodbye to Wanda and Valkyrie.

"Catch you later, Y/N," Valkyrie throws in, her smirk conspicuous as she speaks just before you can head in the opposite direction.

***

You make it home just in time for breakfast. Yelena has ordered bagels and coffee, but her culinary abilities are also on display, illustrated by her recent success in frying bacon to the perfect crisp, steering clear of the usual outcome of a charred mess.

"Hey, baby, how was your run?" Yelena asks while setting up the breakfast spread on the dining table.

"I broke my personal best," you report to her, your face lighting up with pride. Swiftly, you begin to strip off your sweaty running clothes, heading towards the bedroom for a much-needed shower.

In just a few minutes, you step out of the bedroom with a towel slung over your neck, dressed in a threadbare shirt and nothing but your underwear. Your stomach rumbles loudly in anticipation of food. Yelena chuckles at your evident hunger and begins spreading cream cheese on your bagel while you add milk and sugar to your cup of coffee and hers.

"By the way," you begin tentatively, aware that it might be premature to broach what Kate had revealed to you. Nonetheless, you recognize the necessity of addressing the issue sooner rather than later. "Kate was there too, for the 6-miler. She... shared something with me that I think you should have discussed with me first. Something about a team transfer at work?"

Yelena's body stiffens noticeably, and she remains frozen for a brief moment. Her eyes betray a sense of uncertainty as she absorbs your words. But, after a few quick blinks, she collects herself and passes you your bagel on a plate.

“There's some truffle and honey in the fridge if you want to add them to yours,” Yelena offers.

An obvious deflection.

"Did you hear what I said? I said Kate–”

"Kate really ought to stop broadcasting every detail of my life whenever she has an opportunity,” Yelena mutters coldly.

“Don’t be mad at her. She was doing what she thought was right–”

“She had no right to meddle!” Yelena yells, her voice escalating, startling you with the sudden outburst. Her emotional fervor is more intense than you've ever seen, leaving you taken aback.

“She’s just worried about you,” you respond, striving to keep your voice calm to temper the situation. "But why didn't you tell me? We had an understanding that you didn't need to push her out of your life for me."

“Because it's my career–my choice,” Yelena insists, her tone unyielding. She is steadfast in her independence.

But her independence isn't the issue here. You’ve always been proud of how she can handle herself.

"Telling me about it isn’t an invitation for me to control you in any way, Yelena," you assure her. "I just wish you had enough faith in me to share the things that matter deeply to you. I care about you, and it stings a bit to be left out of these aspects of your life."

Yelena grows quiet at that, her fingers closing around her mug tightly as she processes your words and what it means for your relationship.

Trust.

It’s not that she doesn’t trust you enough–

“I feel guilty,” Yelena admits in a soft murmur, so faint that you strain to catch her words. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I've treated Kate, starting from when she confessed her feelings to me, right up until we started dating. Despite us being together, Kate and I remained close at work. We'd take lunch and breaks together, and we'd even take turns buying each other coffee, depending on who got to the office first…”

"It's like... I've been leading her on, you know? I've never given her the chance to get over me. I've come to realize that the feelings she had for me back then... they're still there, maybe even stronger than before. I can't keep messing with her emotions like that," Yelena confesses, sipping her coffee as if seeking solace in the soothing warmth of the drink.

You nod, the pieces finally starting to fall into place. “Did you talk to Kate about this? Or did you just cut her off?”

The guilty look that flashes across Yelena's face tells you everything you need to know.

“She thinks you're angry with her because she told me about... about what happened between you two,” you say, still a little uncomfortable bringing up the past.

Yelena lets out a sigh, her shoulders sagging. “I've been handling this Kate situation all wrong, haven't I?”

“Just talk to her,” you advise gently. Getting up from your chair, you walk over to Yelena and start massaging her tense shoulders. “She said that she would rather quit her job than let you transfer to another team and mentor."

“Really?” Yelena sounds surprised. “Did she mean it?”

"I'm not sure," you reply, shrugging your shoulders. "She simply mentioned that she's rich.”

“She’s grossly rich,” Yelena confirms, letting out a content sigh as you find a particularly tight knot in her muscle. "But she loves journalism. I won’t let her quit something she's passionate about.”

You recognize the irony in Yelena's last sentence but decide to remain silent on the matter.

“By the way, Wanda was there too,” you say carefully, watching Yelena's reaction closely. “She crossed the finish line way before me, I think. She was with a friend.”

Yelena's response is evasive, offering no real insight. "That's nice for her," she remarks, keeping her emotions well in check.

You quickly change the topic, feeling somewhat foolish for bringing up something she apparently doesn't care about, even though you were simply trying to be open and honest. You decide to avoid mentioning your ex-wife for the time being.

“Anyhow,” you segue, hoping to direct the conversation in a new direction, “Would you like to join me for my next fun run?”

“Me? Up and running at four in the morning? That's about as likely as snow in the Sahara,” Yelena replies, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “I'll just use a line from my favorite show,” she quips, her laugh filling the room. “‘Jogging is the worst, Y/N! I mean, I know it keeps you healthy. But God, at what cost?’”

Your mouth forms a small 'o' as you consider your response, feeling slightly let down that she isn't even slightly tempted to join you. “To be fair, jogging and running are not the same thing. Running recruits a different muscle group–”

“God, you’re such a nerd,” Yelena cuts in, a mischievous glint in her eyes as her hand delicately finds the back of your neck. She draws you nearer until your lips are tantalizingly close. “Keep doing what you love, baby,” she murmurs, her breath brushing over your partially opened lips. “And I'll continue pursuing mine.” Then she claims your lips in a deep kiss.

Your body instinctively melts into her touch, your hand gently tracing the curve of Yelena's waist, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

"I've got a better idea for a workout that doesn't involve clothes but might be more fun," Yelena suggests with a breathless laugh, stepping back slightly.

A playful smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth as you pull your shirt over your head.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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marisferasiop · 1 year

Text

FUSE

Ao3 link

PART 2

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Plot with Smut

Categories: F/M, M/M, Poly

Fandoms: The Mandalorian (TV), Prospect (2018)

Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader; Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Reader; Din Djarin/Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Reader

Characters: Din Djarin, Reader, Ezra (Prospect 2018), Grogu | Baby Yoda, Cee (Prospect 2018)

Additional Tags: Sex Pollen, Marathon Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, but only in the dark, Force-Sensitive Reader, Ezra loses the arm, no y/n, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, oh no we got feelings in our sex pollen smut, Everyone in star wars is bi til it's proven otherwise, Ezra is definitely a mouthy bottom, Switch Din Djarin

Summary:

Din and reader are working as a Guild crew living on the Crest (and quietly pining for one another). Din picks up a bounty on a harvester dodging creditors who had fronted funds for prospecting work and finds a surprise: someone who looks exactly like him. While on the way to drop him to the client, the three of you are accidentally dosed with a pollinating spice strain meant for cold blooded biologies! Now you three have to ah- "get it out of your systems" somehow!

"Take the bunk, iisa. I’ll kip here,” he says, dragging Grogu off the panel and into his lap.

“Alright,” you say, not surprised, and head down the ladder. Mando’s bunk is narrow and not particularly comfy, but it sure beats the durasteel floor or being upright in the cockpit. He makes sure you have a stark two-thirds split of the usage of it, only using the other third because you prod him when he gets sore shoulders or a crick in his neck when he doesn't. You curl up on your side on the thin bedroll and next thing you know, the Crest is juddering to a stop outside of the hyperlane over a small, verdant green moon.

“I shouldn’t be gone more than a day. The mark is purported to be a charlatan, but not much of a slippery catch, despite the long chase. He doesn't even have a ship,” Mando says, a while later, hesitating on the ramp. "Just keeps managing to sweet talk his way into rides, but sounds like he got stuck here." He checks that the fob is still beeping and tucks it into his belt.

“Ah, a chatty one. A favorite trait of yours; I am familiar.”

Mando snorts and passes Grogu to you. “More encouragement to drag him back and slab him so we don't have to listen,” he says. The kid sends you a flare of annoyance and squirms to get down, so you kneel and set him down, and he immediately goes back to Mando’s shins, bashing them with his little claws.

"I can't take you, kid. The air is toxic."

But Grogu simply leapt into his pram and popped the bubble shield you had engineered, staring up at his buir in defiance. You stifle a laugh and Mando sighs, resigned and continues to equip his standard weapons.

“I’ll check the ship and do maintenance as needed. Comm me if you need backup,” you say needlessly. He’s never needed your field skills yet, but that’s because he usually takes the kid. You're glad when he takes the kid. Knowing he has some kind of backup is a relief with how often Mando manages to get his ass kicked. And Grogu hates being left behind, typically showing such feelings like now.

The reputation you’d racked up on Nevarro as a force-sensitive, retired, Rebel Alliance sharpshooter- cum- mechanic had done little for you in the way of an easy life, but when you’d fixed Mando’s junker of a gunship after a nasty crash, and talked to his kid like some Ahsoka lady they'd met, he’d hired you on his crew and you’d had an enjoyable time since (even if you wished the idiot would notice how hard you have been holdinf a torch for him for cycles).

But it did no good to pine after a Mandalorian, you knew. Especially one as adhered to the Old Ways as Mando appeared to be. You’d met others in your time, as a child when they weren’t so secretive, and later, in the galactic war. And later still, when there was a covert beneath the city everyone pretended to ignore, and their beroya was out working, another would surface now and again to find work or socialize. Sometimes you’d hire them on for a day to move product, or assit with a fix, or break old machines down for parts.

You’d taken two different ones to bed, even, on various holdovers. They never removed their helmets, but you’d enjoyed the ah- rides, nonetheless.

Not this one, though. He had to be either the most dense (or simply the least interested) Mandalorian in the galaxy. Which really did so much for your self-esteem.

So after Mando departs with the kid in his pram floating along, his amban glinting across his back, you turn off the ship's air scrubber and seal your helmet and head outside to check the landing gear. The Crest was balanced on a patch of thick moss, its feet embedded in the soil below. You tutted at the soft surface and carried on inspecting for damage.

That evening, you rehydrate a sachet of soup, attach it to your suit's feed hose, and sit on a fallen log a few meters from the ship, grateful for the susurrus of nature. The forest moon is rich with fauna and life, desite the dust in the air that makes it unbreathable for humans. You wonder for the thousandth time how Mando is doing on his hunt, and decide to go back inside for a brief nap, keeping your comm unit close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din is– surprised. Bounties don't often actually surprise him, but finding his quarry to be a lame-armed and barely- breathing man who looks and sounds uncannily like Din himself, hitched to a young woman by a length of tie-down belting strung between their suit loops in the middle of a dense forest has to land somewhere on his chart of weirdest discoveries. The fact that the young girl is aiming a strange blaster at Din and standing half-over the collapsed bounty is another tally on the list.

“Ezra May?” Din asks, leveling his amban rifle at the girl, seeing as she's the one with the weapon. The man sags against a tree and struggles to catch his breath in lieu of answering. He raises his his left hand and lists to the side a bit, which pulls on the girl and nearly knocks her down.

“I am indeed, my… shiny friend. I suspect that makes you a bounty hunter?”

Din faces the red- flashing fob at him and pockets it again. The man glances downward and cocks his head, looking curiously at the floating pram and little green kid in it. “Curious.” The heaviness of his labored breathing fogs the glass dome of his helmet.

“I am only here for you. The mark said nothing about another. Who is this?” Din waves the pronged end of his rifle at the girl, who eyes him with a feral glint. He keeps the rifle trained on her after a second thought spared for her shaking hands, but he straightens his finger off the trigger. He can shock her if need be.

“That is Cee. I stumbled upon her and her father's campsite and somewhat contributed to the death of the man after a bit of-- misunderstanding. I have found myself indebted to her, as she has attempted to save my life,” he shrugs his right arm with some pained effort and gasps to regain his breath, having been winded by simply shifting the injured limb. “But I am dwindling fast. My wound- it festers. The dust has gotten in the suit from the second injury," he waves to his chest with his left hand. "I suggest, Mandalorian, if you want that full bounty you’ve undoubtedly worked so hard for- you’ll help.”

Din watches the man’s chest hitch again and thick blood drools from the wound in his breastbone, causing the labored breathing. He motions for the girl to drop the strange blaster and she does, begrudgingly, after May murmurs to her that the Mandalorian has disintegration rounds in his bandolier and likely also loaded in that rifle.

He's not wrong.

“Can you walk?”

“I can, boss. But it’s slow going. My lungs are blocking up with infection from the wounds I have sustained. It is worse now with the new injury from our most recent aggressors,” he gestures at his chest again and wheezes a weak cough.

“Untie yourself,” Din motions to Cee, who glances at May and does so with a huff. “Go to that tree and sit.” He cuffs her behind her back to the tree, sitting propped against it, and goes back for the bounty. The man is in a badly damaged flight suit riddled with taped-over blaster holes and a vibroblade stab to his chest, from which the blood is leaking. His right arm hangs completely limp and the sleeve around it is soaked dark with blood, tied round with a tight makeshift tourniquet just under the shoulder.

Din slaps a tracking cuff on May’s ankle and sets about investigating the wounds since the suit is punctured anyway. He has a deep gash circling his whole bicep, nearly down to the bone the whole way 'round, that is blackened at the edges and still sluggishly bleeding, but has obviously cost him a lot of blood, and has indeed started to turn gangrenous with rot. “What happened?”

May chuckles and then coughs, his chest stuttering with the effort. “Another bounty hunter caught up to me in The Green, before I ran into Cee. And the fauna here… is far less forgivin’. Even if the aurelac diggin' is well worth its weight in credits. He shot me in the arm and I went down in a gorge of vegetation. Some of the dust, it released– and got in my suit through the hole, and thus into my wound. I tried to scrape out the black rot, but botched the excision. I went chasin’ radio signals looking for aid, and stumbled onto Cee and her father’s campsite, and simply pulled faster than the dearly departed Damon when I requested aid and he suggested at the end of a rail gun that I fuck off-” he chokes off a gasp and clenches his teeth when Mando flushes his chest wound with his flask.

Din works silently, zipping off the ruined suit sleeve at the shoulder joint for better access. He glances back at the pram. Grogu has floated a bit closer and is gurgling curiously. “No,” he says to the little outstretched claw, wagging a yellow-tipped finger at him. “Don’t waste your strength on a bounty. We’ll get paid either way.”

No small part of Din wonders if Grogu is wanting to heal Ezra May because Grogu is the only being in the galaxies who knows what Din looks like, and is staring at a face he most likely recognizes and might even be confused by. Hells, Din is confused by what he's seeing. Is the man related to him, somehow? Either way, Grogu's power shouldn't be used on a quarry of all things.

May frowns and flicks his dark eyes between them, endlessly curious or suspicious, one. His breathing has leveled out, at least.

“It is deeply infected. I’m going to have to amputate your arm if you want to live,” Din sighs, standing and pulling the saber from his belt.

“That…is a bold conclusion,” May huffs indignantly, trying to straighten his lean against the tree. He doesn't quite manage to make it.

“It’s gangrenous and still open. You’ll bleed out or die of the infection before I can get you to a Core planet, or a bacta tank.” He activates the saber and turns to Grogu. “Can you help? Just make sure he doesn't bleed out? No extra healing.” The child nods and turns his luminous eyes back to the man on the ground.

May frowns again. “Is your child a healer?”

“He is none of your concern. Leave this here.” Din lifts the bounty's dead arm, laying it outstretched and utterly limp on a fallen log beside May so he can slice clean downward. “The blade will cauterize. He will make sure you don’t bleed out. I’ll finish cleaning and covering the stump when we're back to my ship. You will behave, or I'll let you bleed out and take the lesser bounty, and leave her tied to that tree.” Din points at the girl and waits until May nods.

“I will do my level best to acquiesce.”

“Good,” Din grunts, and brings the blade down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dank farrik,” you curse, the top half of you in an exposed panel that is sending sparks out as you weld a loose wire clip back into place.

“Problem, iisa?” Says a familiar vocoder, and you smack your helmet on the panel frame trying to straighten back out of the hull. You snort at the timing of the nickname, if nothing else, rubbing the back of your head. Fuse- you grip the soldering tool more firmly in your hand and pull fully out of the hull.

“Mando! Glad you’re back. No, just cleaning up my emergency job from last time. Find your– oh,” you say, pausing when you see the body on a travois dragging behind the pram. There's a girl tied by the binders to Din’s belt as well. He has an extra (oddly shaped) blaster tucked in his belt and the kid seems a bit groggy but is happy to see you.

“That him? And a stowaway?”

“The girl is with him, he asked me not to leave her here. Promised good behavior for it, before he passed out.” You can read from the tip of his head and his body language that he's saying see what a nice guy I am? It makes you huff a laugh.

“How’s your field medic training?”

“I was on Hoth, nerfherder. You know it’s fine. I’ve patched your clumsy ass up more than once. What happened? You shoot him?”

“Found him like this,” Din waves at the travois and unlatches it from the pram, letting Grogu float inside. The girl scoffs at him and kneels by the unconscious man. “Well. Mostly.”

“He’s missing an arm and burning up!” you say, prodding the man's body and feeling. You check his pulse where the gasket of his suit meets glove; he’s alive, at least.

“His wound was septic. We’re days from a Core planet. I had to remove it.”

“You used the saber?!”

Mando shrugs. “It cauterized it.”

“Maker, the brashness of men will kill us all,” you grouse under your breath, and stalk into the ship to make a pallet on the floor. “Drag him in!”

Din does, sitting the girl near the ladder with her wrist cuffed to a rung. “Don’t imagine he’s going far, but leave that tracker on in case. If he loses the leg trying to get rid of it, he really won’t get far.”

You snort a laugh, used to Mando’s dry (and vaguely morbid) sense of humor, and get to work. The wound is large but indeed thoroughly cauterized. You clean and coat it in bacta gel and wrap it firmly, setting a hardening casting wrap over it for good measure and binding it to his ribs over the dressings on his chest wound. Finally, you set up a hemopak and dig out a bag of IV fluids and hang them off a racking hook in the hull. By the time you're piercing his vein in his remaining elbow, the man is stirring with a reedy groan and squirming away from your touch.

“Easy, mate,” you say quietly. He blinks awake and focuses on you after a moment. “Stay down or you’ll earn a better scar than this. Assuming you live to scar over,” you bite the end of the med tape in your teeth and tear it, smoothing the end down.

“My word, I was not aware I'd have such… stunning company on my final journey to certain death,” the bounty says, still surely delirious. You hear the leather of Mando’s glove creak as his hand tightens over the hilt of his blaster, and snort at Din more than the comment. The man’s impossibly deep eyes soften at your smile, flicking all over your face and hands as you work on his wounds.

“Easy, pretty boy, you silver-tongued devil,” you lean in and stage whisper. “You gotta wait til the big guy goes upstairs for that kinda chat.” You give him a ribald wink and pull away at the man’s baffled smile, organizing the medkit before looking up at Mando. “You gonna freeze ‘im?”

“I probably should. Him passing out after I cut the arm off was the only silence I think I've had in the last two days.”

You gasp in mock offense. “You’ve been gone less than one day!”

Mando tips his helmet at you as if to say: point.

You roll your eyes and huff. “Dick. If you do, his arm won’t heal right. Assuming he stays alive after the client gets him and it gets a chance to heal.”

“Assuming.”

“Any idea what they have planned?” you ask as you stow the medkit away and start digging out dinner. You can feel May’s dark eyes following you closely, watching your interactions. You're pretty sure he’s delirious from blood loss and pain, but you can't deny he’s a stunning specimen of a man to look at, even half dead and coated in sweat and muck.

“No, no questions asked. He is wanted for slipping on investment debts for prospecting though, so maybe they’ll put him to work til he drops. Although now I can’t imagine he’ll earn much, one handed with a rotten chest. You’ll mind him, then, iisa?”

You sigh the sigh of the deeply put-upon and nod, passing out food around the hold. “Here kid. Eat up.” You hand the girl a ration bar and flask of water, which she tears into greedily, before seeing to Grogu with a cup of rehydrated bone broth. Mando watches you for a moment before retreating up to the cockpit with his own ration bar. You leave him to it so he can take off his helmet.

“Can you sit up?” You kneel and ask the bounty, and he manages to get up to his remaining elbow and lean heavily on the hull while you rehydrate and heat another soup sachet. While it heats, you knock back your own cup and work on padding out his pallet on the floor.

Grogu stands next to the man’s boot and coos curiously at him, pushing you some errant thoughts and feelings. One makes you pause as he focuses on the bounty’s face and weighs it heavily against something guarded from you, limned in shadow even in his mind. You back away from the thread of thoughts, half sure it’s Din’s face for some reason, and go back to the task at hand.

“Here’s this,” you make sure Ezra is propped to a proper sit, back against the wall, before you pass down two painkillers and, once he’s tossed them in his mouth, a flask of water to wash them down.

“Dinnertime.”

The man allows you to tip the metal cup to his mouth and he swallows down the soup, humming at the spreading warmth. “Thank you, gem.”

You huff a laugh at the nickname and instead of retorting to what is surely a slip of the tongue in the man’s inebriated state, you provide your name. You watch his eyes soften as he accepts the gift for what it is.

“Ah. The sun shines on a dead man. My name… is Ezra, and that little bird that got lashed to my sinkin’ ship is called Cee,” he sighs, sipping more of the soup as you tip it into him. He brings his left hand up, curling his fingers very lightly around your wrist.

“My dear. I know I don't have a single bargaining chip to use as the gallows loom near. But. If I can beg something of you? Do not drag that poor girl into my mess. Convince your man to leave her on Coruscant. She can go to school, make somethin’ of herself. She doesn't deserve to see what happens next, or live through it. Or die, if they decide to extend to her the same fate. Cee is innocent in this. All she has done is try to help with my injury and tried to escape this damnable moon.”

You glance at the girl and meet her flat, steady gaze for a long moment. Grogu gurgles, and you glance at him, appreciating the sense of truth he pushes at you. You nod after a long moment of silence between you and the Child, tipping the rest of the soup into Ezra’s mouth. “I’ll talk to Mando. lay back down and rest. Those pain tablets should knock you out soon. I’m sure your rugged good looks can only improve with some beauty sleep,” you wink at him, pulling a chuckle from his chest.

”My word, gemstone. You are a wonder.”

You get up and clean and put everything away and scoop the kid up, checking the binder on the girl and putting one on Ezra’s remaining wrist for good measure, keeping them on opposite ends of the hold.

“You decent?” You call up the ladder, smiling at Mando’s snort and crackly yes as he replaces the helmet. You climb up and set Grogu in his seat, taking the third and meeting the flat expression of the T-visor when Mando turns.

“May begs that we take the girl to Coruscant and leave her at the Academy. He says he stumbled upon her in the Green and killed her father, and took her on as a mutual source for survival before he was injured. Mando.” You lean forward with your elbows on your knees. “If that is true, and the kid says it is- we can’t take her back to Canto Bight. She’ll be traded off as chattel, at best. Kept in a pleasure house more likely. She’s young, hon. We consign a life and get payment, but we save the other? What’s one more stop?”

Mando looks at you for a long moment and glances to the kid, who jabbers at him. “He agrees with me, by the way,” you translate. Mando shakes his head and turns back to the panel, plugging in new coordinates.

“If you want.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drop off is significantly more emotional than you or Mando had anticipated.

You had spent the last few days in hyperspace listening to these two pickups talk and talk and talk, about everything and nothing. And now she was wide- eyed and clinging to Ezra’s lone hand, knowing she’d probably never see or speak to him again. She had explained over the days how no one ever talked to her, or how they always put her thoughts and feelings down, so she had learned to be quiet and how to appear thoughtless, even with her mind whirling. But Ezra had always engaged her verbally and probed her thoughts and gave her equalizing jobs to do and met her expectations with his own, rather than treating her like a starry-eyed mooncalf or a burden.

Ezra, on the other hand, didn't seem to give a shit if he was listened to at all - he just couldn't stand silence. It grated on him; so he filled it. He liked conversation and thrived on engagement from the audience; he could never get enough. He absorbed everything Cee had to say and conversated with her amiably or arguably enough. He talked with you when you were in the hold with them, but to be fair the man would talk to a wall if given the opportunity and enough isolation.

Your untrained Force senses are nowhere near as strong as Grogu’s, and you wonder what he is picking up as the girl rushes across the hold to Ezra the second you take off her binder. Mando stands on the ramp with the Child, waiting while Cee lingers and drags out her goodbyes. You can feel the anxiety and stress on her like deadweight.

“I don't want to leave you with them. We can- we’ll pay him off. You can stay with me. We’ll find a place, find some work–”

“As much as I would love to linger, and live long enough to read all the stunning stories you will assuredly write and put out into the universe, I don't think this Mando is the type to be paid off, Cee. And it would require credits we do not have at our disposal. Now go on, girl.” He nudges her away with his forehead, patting the back of her hand on his chest. “Take my chain code- I won’t be needin’ it. Clear out my accounts ‘fore I'm gone, rent you a little place. Go to school. Be a writer. Do everything we talked about. Go on,” he nudges her again with his knee when she doesn't move, her hand tight on his.

“I want one of your comm codes,” Cee says, standing on the top of the ramp, wiping furiously at her damp face and glaring at you and Mando. “You’ll comm me when you're dropping him to your– to whoever’s paying you to do this.”

You glance at Mando and huff at his approving head tilt, offering one of your various recycled comm links. Grogu babbles from Mando’s elbow at her as she leaves the ship, pushing a sad greyness toward you. “I know sprout. She’ll be okay. She’s tough.”

“That she is,” Ezra sighs from the floor, his head not far from your hip. He blinks up at you with one of the sardonic, sad little smiles you’ve come accustomed to in the last few days. You curl your hand into a loose fist to resist the urge to card your fingers through his hair in a consoling gesture.

“Need any shopping done?” Mando calls from the ramp, and you are quick to hand over your growing mental list of parts, soldering strip, replacements for the medkit, food, and water filters. And your favorite snack, if he has time.

“I’m going to find a travel station and run this guy through a wash cycle, he stinks,” you nudge Ezra’s knee with a boot and he gasps in mock offense, making himself cough for it but still grinning. You roll your eyes and start loading a bag. “Bring him back a change of clothes? He’s like… Exactly your size. Maybe a bit leaner. It’s weird.”

Mando hesitates almost imperceptibly before he nods and trods off with the kid tucked in his elbow and the girl, Cee, trailing after him. He intends to take her to the Academy grounds and then head for one of the many markets in the huge city.

You finish packing your bag and grab your coinpurse, intending to return quickly and grab a nap while the boys are gone. Assuming Ezra doesn't talk your ear off. Maybe you’ll dose him up and knock him out after you wash him down.

“Thank you, gem. I am in your debt. For as much good as that does anyone,” the man says, teetering even with his back against the hull where you left him while you gathered supplies.

“It doesn't do anyone any good, considering you're effectively broke and on the way to forfeit your life over your outstanding debts to the wrong people on a gambling planet,” you deadpan, hooking an arm behind his back and pulling him upright. He hisses when the motion pulls on his wounds in his chest, but the bacta patch prevents it from re-opening. “But at least your girl is safe.”

He hums in reply and nods, as somber as you’ve seen him yet.

“Careful. Swing your legs– there you go.” You get him ready to stand and kneel, putting your shoulder under his remaining arm, and get him up to his knees, then his feet in stages. Lots of pulling and grunting and swearing later, Ezra leans against the hull, panting, his short curls stuck to his head under a fresh sheen of sweat.

“Now I have soap and whatnot in my bag, and a change of clothes. Some of Mando’s old loungewear, which will be too baggy on you, but it’ll cover your bits until he comes back with something. I got mouth cleanser and all… deodorant. Can you wash up one-handed?” you ask as you stuff a clean rag into your pouch and flip it closed.

“To be honest, gem. I have not had the pleasure of a water bath since this injury happened,” he shrugs his stump and coughs lightly, still dislodging the dust from his lungs. “And surely not since your boss cut if off. So I do not know. But I'll make the best effort, naturally.”

“I’ll help. The showers are communal, and I trust enough that you understand how to keep that hand to yourself unless you want another appendage missing. Or to end up in carbonite.”

Ezra’s brow locks down in a scowl and he straightens his shoulders. “Of course. I am not in the habit of abusing my position, or women, gem. Despite what you must presume of a bounty, on principle.”

“Mmmmhm,” you hum noncommittally. “Come on,” you drag his arm over your shoulders again and fix your hand around his ribs, and start walking. The tracker on his ankle beeps low and steady, echoing in time with your wristcomm as you leave the ship. You trudge down the ramp and close it, locking the Crest up, and make your way down to the end of the line of docking bays to the traveler service station.

Thankfully the place is none too busy, being midday. There are a family of bluish Ortolan clumped together in one corner and a few straggler smugglers or merchant longhaul cargo pilots keeping to themselves along the rows of showerheads in the wall. There are thin flimsiplast dividers between the showerheads that come up to about chest-height but the back ends are open to the room. You push Ezra into one and help him strip off the flightsuit and his ratty-thin smalls.

“Kriff this suit stinks,” you scrunch up your face and drop the bundle into a nearby sonic clothing compartment to have the dirt and stench of infection and dried sweat buzzed from it. After a brief hesitation, you stuff your own clothes in as well. "How long were you in the green with your injuries?"

“I wandered for a day with my arm injury before I found Cee and her father. And she and I wandered another four before the other bounty hunter found us. And another full day before Mando found us. I do apologize for the smell, at least. Though I imagine you understand why it's so bad, considering your thorough care of me thus far in our odyssey.” Ezra tips his face up into the cool spray while it warms and sighs in relief, deeply appreciating both the pressure and refreshing cleansing after miring in his own stink for weeks. He watches you soap up a rag and drag it up his arm, scrubbing just enough to tingle and really get the dirt and sweat off.

“I do. Arm up,” you tap his elbow with the soapy rag and wash him down clinically, curling your lathered knuckles into the hair under his left armpit and carefully doing the same to the right, avoiding his arm wound, then spreading soap over his face and neck, curling into his scraggly beard and up behind his ears and then down across his too- lean torso. You hand him the rag to scrub over his own half-hard (and unfortunately impressive, you note) genitals before you instruct him to turn under the spray and do the same treatment down his back and legs.

Ezra talks the entire time, endlessly distracted with whatever tall tale crosses his mind and very pleased to have a listening ear to natter into. Right now he's animatedly detailing a yarn about massacring an infestation of channel rats, of all things. If the incessant chatter helps prevent him from getting any more hard under your hands, you're fine with it, you decide with an amused quirk of lips.

Ezra is certainly attractive as hell, but you're not just going to fuck a bounty in a service shower. Part of you can't ignore the abrupt thought that if he’d come up to you in a cantina, you definitely would have dragged him to an inn or ship as soon as you could. He is stupidly cute, with that charming wide, squinty, toothy smile and big, dark brown eyes and that wild tuft of white hair at his temple. Even the tiny, soft roll of his belly had been a surprising delight to find with how malnourished and lean the rest of him was. You definitely enjoy the tenor of his voice, remarkably similar to Mando’s, but unmodulated and thick as syrup with that twangy accent. You interject with little encouraging noises every now and then, spurring him on, even if you're hardly absorbing his story.

Soon enough you're scrubbing the shampoo bar through his hair, scratching your nails firmly into his scalp to get all the sweat and grime out. He practically dissolves under your hands, humming in deep appreciation until you push him back under the stream to rinse. Finally, you peel back the dressing on his missing arm to carefully wash the huge wound cap to prepare for redressing it.

“Stay there and let the water run on your stump for a few minutes, flush it clean. I'm going over here to wash, and then we’ll head back.” You hand him a capful of mouth cleanser and he knocks it back, gargling thoroughly and spitting.

Ezra watches you slip under the flimsiplast divider and turn your own water on. He leans against the wall under the showerhead and lets it flow down his shoulder and off the end of his stump, stinging only slightly as it washes out the scabbing wound and softens it. He has a single passing thought of making a run for it that dissolves down the grate in the floor as quickly as it had been formed; the debilitating combination of injuries and a rotten chest and you have very nearly declawed him. He thinks loosely about the imposing (but hardly unwelcome) image of the Mandalorian, too; tough and hardened but clearly not cruel; quite reasonable and fair, in fact, if his handling of Ezra’s request for Cee is any indication of his character. He even has a child. Ezra shakes his head to clear his swirling thoughts and watches you, keeping his eyes politely on your face even though he's quite tall enough to see all of you over the divider. Nevermind that you were just in here with him, bare and wet while you washed him over. He couldn't help plumping a bit down below due to proximity and general passive interest, but he steadfastly ignores it.

“Are you and our beskar-clad mutual ah- entangled?” He asks, genuinely curious.

You snort and scrub the rag over your body. “I’m not exactly sure Mando is interested in anyone like that. I suspect he had a questionable fling right before he met me in Mos Eisley, some half-feral desert Marshal in the Dune Sea, but I think it left him a little broken-hearted. He hasn't ever acted interested. And he’s my boss, maybe that's why, doesn't want to cross that line.” You shrug. “I mostly mind the kid and do maintenance on the ship and lend a second gun on bigger or tough bounties.”

“And he found you as a mechanic?”

“Yeah, I was working a recovery job for his friend, came in with a rickety heap of a M-111 I'd bartered with some Jawas for and he bought like half the parts off it immediately, had me and Peli knock his own Crest back into shape. And then asked me if I was interested in staying on as a crewmate, and I was, mostly to get off Tatooine. I’d actually first seen him on Nevarro when his covert was there, and he was working as a beroya for the Guild when Karga was running it. I left Nevarro after Karga started shaping it up and the Core started flavoring it too much. And then he found me on Tatooine; rest is history.”

“Beroya?” Ezra tests the word on his tongue and frowns. It's unfamiliar, and he so loves words.

You huff a laugh. “That’s his people’s word for bounty hunter.”

“Hmm. And the little green fella?”

You huff again, eyebrows dancing. “Long story short: Mando’s a bit of a collector, mate. Lost things, loners, the broken and the damned. He tends to save them, sort of despite himself, and then just keeps going, finding others. Gave me a job when I was considering spacing myself off the next public travel barge.... He saved the kid when the Imps wanted to experiment on him. Saved an old merc from a forced labor camp, saved a former drop trooper from her own hand... He flies in to save the day all the damn time. The list goes on.”

“Imps? You're friendly with these folks?”

“Kriff, no. Not intentionally. Way I understood it, the kid was a bounty. Mando couldn't bring himself kill him, so he turned him over warm for a substantial reward, and the guilt ate at him til he broke back in the compound and took the kid back, killed half of Nevarro on the way back out. Been running ever since.”

Ezra’s mouth turns down as he mulls the news over.

“Anyway. Just mind your manners and you won't end up slabbed.”

“I surely will, gem. Being thawed from that process is hell itself; I am unfortunately acquainted with the burning in one’s sinuses for days after. Nothing tastes right for weeks. I'll keep to myself until we must part ways.”

“Good. He doesn't mess around when me or the kid are involved; I'm sure it’s been impressed upon you by now that you’ll end up worse off than this if you even try,” you nod at his stump and shut your water off, ignoring the bounty’s frown.

Ezra watches your form just a little indulgently as you turn away and dry off, appreciating the glide of fine bones under your smooth skin, the soft curves and more toned muscles. He shuts his own water off and starts drying off, managing a patting motion over most of himself, though reaching his legs is giving him trouble.

You dress quickly and come back under the divider to finish his right side, carefully patting the scabbing end of his stump before stepping away for the single set of loose lounge clothes Mando keeps (even though he has never worn them near you).

“Sit and get your feet in,” you instruct, kneeling and holding each leghole open for him to slip his feet in. Ezra sits on the bench and does so, tipping to his left as he balances his weight with his hand planted on the seat.

“I do miss being– symmetrical,” he hisses, carefully maneuvering his stiff right shoulder as you stretch the neck and armhole of a tee shirt over his head and arms.

Despite yourself, you laugh at his complaint. His dark eyes flick up to you and a small smile ticks up one side of his face. “Alright, let's walk back and let this dry a bit, and I'll redress it once it does. Don’t let it touch anything,” you say, spraying the whole raw end of his stump with bacta and wincing at a sharp mental jab of empathic pain when he screws his face up from the sting.

“If you ah- have any of those tablets you have given me since the first day, gem, that would be… Just creamy,” he stammers through gritted teeth, getting back to his feet. “I believe the wash down was simply sinful, but I must admit my wounds are giving me some real grief for it, now.”

“They’re back on the ship. Let me get our clothes out of the sonic and we can go back. I’ll dose you up and feed you, you can sleep it off.”

Ezra nods and watches with his dark eyes as you empty the sonic clothes compartment into your shoulder bag and return, putting everything you brought to rights and shouldering the bag before holding a hand out to drag him upright.

When you make it back to the ship, it's still empty. Din hasn’t commed, so you assume he’s still out shopping, or trying to leave the loquacious and generally nerdy and strange Cee (who has warmed up just enough to be both demanding and overtly chatty) at the Academy. You stifle a laugh at the image of Din trying to deal with her, certain that Ezra won’t appreciate it while he mourns her loss. Even if he is not her father, they were clearly bonded from trauma and circumstance, if nothing else.

When you're safely inside the ship, you leave Ezra at his pallet on the floor and fetch down the painkillers.

“Damn, I only have one tablet left. Let me comm Mando so he can pick up more at the market.” You hand Ezra the tablet and dart up the ladder to do just that, waiting for an affirmative return before you go back down. You jump down the last few rings to find that Ezra has dry swallowed the tablet and managed to flop mostly into his bedding.

“I do appreciate your care of me, gem. Even if I am not meant to live beyond the next few days, you have given me a decent sendoff.”

You hum and start putting things away. “Canto Bight is always moving, and at the moment it's a long way off, so you can estimate it to be more like, eh… nearly a standard week?” You shed your outer layer and start rehydrating a sachet of bone broth for him, already keen on the way he’s listing from the exercise and mounting pain levels. He’ll fall right to sleep after getting a full, warm belly, you’re sure.

“Gemstone, could you be bothered to hand me the satchel I came on this fine vessel with? If you are out of painkillers, I have something to tie me over until our armored friend returns with a more performative narcotic.”

You frown at him and lift the bag, eyeing his outstretched hand. “What does it look like?”

“Kevva, woman. You just showered with me. I am not interested in harming you in the least, not that I imagine I could in my state. But if you insist, it would be a small, thumb-sized, off-white bottle. White lid.” You find it quickly and shake it, hearing tiny caplets plink against the sides. You don't recognize the swirly script the label is written in.

“What are these?”

“They are painkillers from an old field kit from Cee’s father’s drop ship. They are well past expired, but if it’s all I have, I will manage until our reflective leader returns.”

You roll your eyes and shake out a few pills into your palm, offering them. The dosage had long since worn off the label. Ezra takes them all and chews them up before you can snatch any back. “You better not have just OD’d, asshole,” you grit, handing him the cup of broth.

“I know it’s equivalent to asking a mountain to bow down, but do endeavor to trust me just enough to know I would not end my life before my time is due, gem. I said they are expired, I have only taken extra to ensure some semblance of relief for this incredible ache,” he shifts his stiff right shoulder and his whole face screws up with pain, body rigid with it.

“Let me-” you start, and move behind the pillow behind his head and shoulders. He is unconcerned but watches you with those fathomless dark eyes, curious. You lay your hands on either side of his neck and squeeze.

“If Mando shows up, you’re dealing with the fallout,” you say, massaging rhythmically. Ezra clenches his jaw on a sigh and rounds his shoulders out, seeking more.

“Understood, friend. Oh. I am– endlessly grateful.”

You find a tight whorl of muscle quickly, just under the right shoulderblade near his spine. You set to working your thumb into it, coaxing it back into shape, and eventually it releases, along with the tension you feel in his aura. The pained groan Ezra can't quite stifle is positively sinful, which nearly makes you laugh. He turns his head with a sardonic smile at your stifled snort.

“To be honest, gemstone. That spot has pained me more than the wound itself since I was injured. Your friend spared me much of the site pain when he cauterized the wound with his laser- blade. But that muscle, from carrying myself somewhat tilted, has only gotten worse. I find myself in your debt yet again.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just behave til the next port and we’ll call it even.”

“Now I must riposte, my dear. I have behaved quite admirably in your care, have I not?”

You chuckle, nodding. “You have, though you are also healing and no doubt getting an itching fever from being consigned, injured, to the hold of a ship in space with little leg room and now one less ear to babble incessantly into. I’m asking that you continue to behave, then.”

“Incessantly!”

“Ezra, you know full damn well that you could say half as many words in Basic and get your point across! You like the sound of your own voice!”

“Listen here, little bird, I wouldn't natter on so much if you didn't like how similar I sound to your tin man!” He grins quick when he sees you flush, caught.

“You do sound oddly like him. Not as uh-”

“That is a bedroom voice,” Ezra interrupts, breaking into a grin at your blush. “I thought the same thing when he leveled his rifle at me in the Green. He cannot be doing that on purpose all the time. It has to be the vocoder, something not wired right in his bucket.”

You laugh, which makes Ezra smile again, softer this time. “Have you truly never seen him?” you shake your head and his eyebrows lift. “Not even by accident?”

“He’s very careful. It’s important to him, his beliefs. I don't think he's taken it off without knowing I'm gone or dead asleep since he hired me. Maybe even before, with his kid. But I know the kid has seen him.” You wink, wiggling your eyebrows as if sharing juicy details. Ezra huffs a laugh and lays back in his netting.

“How do you know? Do you speak his language?”

“Grogu has the Force. I am Force sensitive, but untrained. He sends me thoughts and feelings now and again, and I translate, to a degree, for Mando. Though the guy’s getting good at understanding the kid’s coos and gurgles and body language by now; I don't have to do much. I know Mando’s name, because of that, but I believe it was an accident, a passing thought- and Mando has never told me it, so I won’t use it. Or share it!” You hold up a finger to stem off the next question just as the man’s mouth opens. He grins quick again, as if mysteriously proud of you for some reason, and you continue.

“Anyway. Grogu will tap his chin now and then, just under the lip of the helmet, and there is sort of a longing around the gesture, but he gets an image in his head- a memory- but he clears it or drops a wall between us before a face can form. I can only assume it's because of me.”

Ezra bites his lips and is quiet for a long moment. “I was going to ask about your powers,” Ezra defends himself, playing up his sulk, but his eyelids are growing heavy. He yawns hugely and you grin. Got him.

“Not much to tell. I’m like more of a– palpable empath than a Jedi. Go to sleep.” With his grumble of assent, you take his empty soup cup back and rinse it before dropping into the bunk across the hold, watching the comm link and waiting for Din to come back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din returns to the ship a few hours after he left it, bereft of one child and holding that much more tightly to his own. He remembers well what it feels like (what it felt like) to give his own child away after too- short a time with him, because he thought Grogu going with the Jedi would lead to a better life for him. Grogu had been quiet as a womp rat since they left Cee at the Academy and the complete silence was grating on Din’s nerves.

He had received your comm for painkillers as he was leaving the market, so he doubled back and retrieved what you asked for at the first stall he saw with med supplies. By the time he’s scaling the ramp into the Crest, he’s ready for a meal and a nap before they take off again. The dock fees are paid up for the full day, after all.

He enters to find the bounty snoring hard on his pallet and that you are lightly asleep in Din’s own bunk. He stops and watches you for a long moment until Grogu gurgles excitedly at the sight of you and you stir.

You inhale sharply and roll over at the sound, blinking and sitting up by the time he seals and locks it. Grogu squirms and gets down, toddling off into the hold.

“Nice shopping trip?” You ask, taking some of the supplies and beginning to stow it.

“Not bad. I intend to nap for a bit and then we’ll head out, take him to Canto Bight?” He tips the helmet at the man snoozing on the floor and you nod. “Here’s those painkillers, iisa.”

“Ah, thanks.” You shake one out and dry swallow it, wincing at a pull in your lower back, and pull down the medkit to stow them and start putting everything else away, closing panels and hanging larger items in cargo netting. “Go on and nap, I know you pulled an all-nighter.”

“You can keep the bunk,” Din says, shifting his weight. Grogu yawns in the crook of his arm and droops over it, ready for his own tiny hammock. “Two of those please?”

You snort and grin at him, passing two tablets over. He never takes meds; he must be really going through it. “Yeah, point. I had a nap. Go on, take that bucket off and shut the door, get some rest. I’ll knock at the door when the docking timer goes.”

“Alright,” Din sighs and bumps his shoulder fondly against yours before crawling into the bunk. Just before the door slides shut he hears Ezra stir. You hear him, too, and take the clothes he got for Ezra and lay them in a folded pile on a low shelf near the nest.

“Gem, is our Mando back with those meds?”

“He is. Is your expired experiment not cutting it?”

Ezra huffs a pained laugh and shakes his head. “It is not, I'm afraid. May I pilfer some of those?” He tips his forehead at the bottle in your hand and you come over, shaking one out.

“You already had one, and it's only been half an hour. So you can wait for it to wear off, or you can have one, now. I'm not boxing your kidneys over expired meds and some site pain."

In answer, he reaches up and accepts the single tablet, swallowing it dry. “I am not eager to see how this feels with nothing in my system, gem.” He shifts his right shoulder and winces, hard. “Thank you.”

“Don't have much of a pain tolerance, do you?”

Ezra huffs a laugh and nods dreamily, still mostly asleep despite the chatter. “Never thought much of it before I sustained this injury. It seems I do not.”

There is enough room on the bundle of blankets for two, so you drop to a knee beside Ezra’s hip. “Shove over a bit,” you murmur, tapping his side with your knuckles, and he does, shimmying toward the wall. You glance back at the hatch to Din’s bunk and see it closed, and you can hear the kid already snoring from within.

You slip down and lay on your back beside the bounty, who is laying still but not quite tense. “Forgive me for not trying too hard to avoid you, whatsoever, gem. We did wash up together, after all. and I am a bit of a cuddler, truth be told.”

“Hush, dummy. He hears you, you’re gonna end up in carbonite.”

“Is he so possessive of you?”

You snort at the mental image. “Not how I'd put it. Overprotective, maybe. He has a loyalty streak a parsec wide, not that it ever does him much good. Mando gets his ass kicked on about half the jobs he does.”

Ezra chuffs a soft laugh and straightens on his back, uncomfortable with his unbalanced weight on his side. The move pulls on the still- sealing wound in his sternum and he hisses quietly.

“Just go back to sleep. The alarm will go off in six hours and we’ll leave for Canto Bight.”

“Well, gem. I can't think of a better way to spend my final hours than laying here peacefully with you. Maybe if our shiny friend joined us- sans the shiny, for the sake of comfort- it could be a real party.” Ezra yawns hugely and settles, falling asleep quickly as the fresh tablet hits his bloodstream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stir awake to the sound of the bunk door sliding open, maybe an hour later. “Hmm? Mando?” You whisper and pop your head up, feeling sweaty and wildly overheated in the blanket nest. Ezra has curled against your side on the pallet but he’s not got an arm to drape over you; you're not even touching all that much. The heat can’t be from him. Not all of it.

Weird.

You sit up and see that Din is wriggling out of the bunk silently and very carefully, struggling to avoid disturbing Grogu snoozing hard in his little hammock. He slaps the door controls to shut it as soon as he is out.

“Osik!” Din gasps, falling to a knee. “Ii– iisa.”

You can feel the panic in him even as it's edging into his voice and jump up, rushing the few feet across the hold to him. “Mando! What’s wrong?” you hiss in a whisper.

“So– so hot. What’s- is it hot in here to you?” he shakes his head when you nod, watching the sweat roll down your temple and chin to soak into the collar of your flightsuit. "Okay."

“I am feeling it too, though I do not think it’s the temperature in the hold, Mando,” Ezra grits, struggling up to an elbow. “Did we all ingest something similar? Or were we exposed? Something is perhaps having a – biological response with each of us?”

You wipe at the sweat beading on your brow and try to think, which is easier said than done. Your thoughts are snarled tight and your blood is thrumming under your skin, pooling in your belly and thighs.

“We... Oh! We each took a painkiller. Or two,” you say, turning to Mando, who is on his hands and knees and panting under his helmet. He already seems far worse off than you or Ezra.

“Dank farrik. Soup. And – the tablets.”

“We've been having the same soup sachets for a week. That can't be it. What in Kevva’s name was in those tablets?”

You turn to Ezra and blink slowly. “Let me get them,” you fumble for the medkit and bring it down, digging for the white cylinder tube. “It’s just the usual standard medkit bottle- see? It says– oh. Uh, Mando? Where did you get these?”

Ezra reaches out his hand and you pass the shaker to him. It does look exactly like a standard over- the- counter Core painkiller bottle for a standard field medkit- but apparently recycled by spice runners and handed off by mistake in the busy market. The label reads Spiced Honey in Aurebesh and Huttese, though the script is faded. He squints and reads off the rest.

“‘Pollination Aid for Insectoid, Reptilian, Amphibious, and other cold-blooded sentient beings. Not recommended for mammalian biologies. For consenting adult use only; do not take more than one tablet in a standard cycle day. Common side effects in warm- blooded mammalian biologies include heightened basal temperature, undue sweating, erections lasting longer than four hours, hypersensitivity, amorous behavior, increased self-lubrication, and full loss of inhibition in varying degrees of strength. Do not combine with other intoxicants’. Well. We’re fucked, perhaps quite literally,” Ezra drops the shaker into the nest of blankets and curses under his breath, glancing at Mando mindlessly kicking off his boots and then to you.

“Gem, I know you have taken one as well, but I highly recommend you freeze me and lock yourself in the cockpit or the bunk before Mando loses his grip. He took two. And even with one arm and in a good bit of pain I find myself unlikely to hold back if this settles in further. I have no desire to harm you, especially against your will. I don't imagine he does either, but we may not be in control much longer.”

Your eyes are hazy, glassy, breath catching in your chest as you frown, deciphering Ezra’s words while the rest of your vision blurs. Your body heat feels doubled- tripled with both of the men’s suffering assaulting your heightened Force senses. Din is already sloughing his gambeson and flightsuit, leaving the armor attached to the connection points at shoulders and thighs, his breathing labored. Soon he is down to his compression bottoms and a ratty-soft liner shirt and the helmet, the neck stretched wide. You stare at his flushed bronze skin and the beginning of a thatch of chest hair peeking out of the neckline and lick your dry lips, abruptly very eager for a taste of the salt of him.

Both of them.

“Iisa, please. I don’t– what the fuck,” Din groans desperately, dropping his helmeted forehead to the durasteel floor. He’s got both arms crossed around his stomach, heaving deep breaths as if all the air being circulated by the scrubber is not enough.

“Mando, I suggest you come over here and slake that particular thirst with me, unless your partner is willing. You can take me if you like; I must admit the desire is mutual, and I do not mind being the passive party, especially considering neither my balance nor dexterity is what it once was.”

Din is already crawling across the space to the pallet, gripping Ezra’s ankle and tugging desperately until the other man is dragged to the edge of the nest of blankets. He mantles over Ezra and pauses, tips the helmet back and up to face you, still kneeling nearby. “Go up and lock yourself in the cockpit, or join us, cyar. I can't guarantee you won’t be– touched if you stay- my control is– slipping.”

“I want to stay. I want to watch you. I want to- touch you. Both,” you add, your hands shaking as you run them thoughtlessly over your body. Your nerves light up at every press, even over your clothes. Suddenly it’s far too hot and, like Mando, you start tearing at your flight suit and smalls.

You cup your tits and warmth pools low in your belly, rising to a rolling boil as you watch Din whine low and demanding as he drags Ezra’s bottoms off, too impatient to shuck the man’s boots so his loose pants get caught. They have a quick struggle which ends in the bounty with one boot off and leg freed, and his pants twisted around the other ankle. With a frustrated growl, Mando shoves Ezra's shirt up to his armpits. May wriggles the top off, tugging one-handedly at Mando’s liner shirt until he drops his head forward and the stretched neckline slides easily over the helmet. He throws the garment to the side and takes one of Mando’s hands, bringing it up to his face.

“Yes. Get them wet,” he demands. Din drives three fingers past Ezra’s loquacious lips to wet them on his tongue. He draws them back a moment later, thoroughly soaked, to wrap a slicked fist around both their cocks. Ezra’s head falls back to the bedding with a thunk, a strangled groan squeezing out of him.

The bounty’s single hand can’t stay still, he roves it over his own chest down to where his legs are spread around Mando’s thickly muscled hips and then up, catching on a peaked brown smudge of nipple. He pinches it with a twist and grins quick at the rough sound it earns. Din growls at the tease and ruts his hips forward, gripping a bit tighter if the noise that punches out of them both is any indication.

Din wants very badly to rub his bare face against the man’s chest- your chest- any skin. It feels like every instinct he has is to bury his face in skin. It is incredibly frustrating to be unable to, but he has just enough coherence to keep his helmet on, for now. He hopes idly that you’ll have the wherewithal to slap the lights off if he tries to remove his helmet. He drops his forehead to Ezra’s sternum, avoiding the weal of pink scar tissue that has healed up nicely under the bacta patch, and whines low and plaintive. The drag of his fist and wet and heat on his cock is not enough.

“I don't know if I have slick,” he grits out, lifting the visor to face the bounty below him. Ezra blinks slow at him, frowning slightly before it clicks.

“I may have some in my satchel. Gem, where did you set it?” He turns to face you, legs snapping shut around Din’s hips as the Mandalorian squeezes them tighter and ruts harder.

You whimper, a hand in your smalls and flightsuit shucked to your waist. Both men snap their attention to you at the sound and slow in their rutting. Din reaches his other hand out and makes grabby hands at you, seemingly past the capability of words.

“Gem, get the slick, then take off that suit and come sit on my face,” Ezra growls, rutting up against Din anew until the man plants a fist by his head and drives down, deeper and harder.

"Maker, yes, iisa. Do that," Din says.

You dump Ezra's bag on the floor and find the vial easily enough. You then squirm the rest of the way out of your suit and crawl over, eager and desperate for the press of skin on yours. Your own skin feels too tight, flushed and overheated.

“I want to–” you start, gasping when you reach them and Din pushes your face down to Ezra’s lips, coaxing you both into a desperate kiss that is mostly tongue and teeth and not much skill. Ezra clings to you with his hand, his belly flexing with the force of Mando's jarring thrusts from below.

“Come here, precious thing. Bring your leg over. There you go. Come down to me- I can’t quite–” he drags your hips down with a yank and your mound crashes into his mouth. The vial of slick skitters off toward the shelves, unneeded for now.

He growls into you, the vibration lighting up your entire body and you throw your head back, nails sliding on his chest, narrowly avoiding the bacta patch at the base of his sternum. You're kneeling over Ezra's head, facing Mando, struggling to keep your knees planted under the assault that is Ezra laving broad strokes through your folds and sucking on your clit in turns. His arm is an iron band just above your ass, keeping you planted on him. His nails are pressed into your opposite hip, a tiny bite of pain to accentuate all the swirling pleasure. Sweat beads on your skin, blood thrumming with need and lust and desire.

Ezra's tongue winds you up tighter and tighter, his hand alternately squeezing your cheek roughly before drifting round to cup and knead your breast. He thumbs your peak before he slides across to the other with a low hum of satisfaction into your core. You push your chest into his palm and, when he brings his hand back to pull you back down to his mouth, you tip forward and curl your tongue around the perfectly twinned tips of their cocks peeking out of Din’s fist. Din makes a choked noise and pushes his own cockhead at your lips, throwing his head back when you suckle them both at the same time. As a reward, Ezra flattens his tongue against you and encourages your hips to start grinding on his face.

“Bring yourself to completion on my tongue, gem. I want to drink from your fountain before our friend truly loses himself. I believe watching you come on my face will be the tipping point.”

You do exactly as you are told, planting both hands on Ezra’s chest and riding his face until you shatter. As you shiver through the come down, you abruptly want them both, desperately. You wildly consider fitting them both inside, somehow. But before the thought accumulates steam, Din is wracked with a wave of lust a good deal stronger than you or Ezra are feeling. He did take two tablets, after all.

Din makes a low, desperate sound and reaches for you. “Cyar. Please, can I?”

“Din. Please, yes. Come, come here,” you slip and use his name, but he barely notices, only enough to tip his head briefly in confusion as you drag him away from wedging between Ezra’s thighs and urge him behind you. “Give me your cock. I need it! I feel so empty,” you complain, grinding back against him when he kneels behind you, over Ezra’s crown.

“Mando, let me get you good and wet for our gem. Put that in my mouth before you spear into them,” he laves over you once more and tips his head back, catching the head of Din’s cock as it throbs downward, making the Mandalorian shudder at the sudden warmth and wet.

“Ours?” Din murmurs distractedly before it dissolves into a heady groan at whatever Ezra does with his tongue. He thrusts forward into the man’s throat and Ezra soaks his cock, thick spit clinging to the tip as Din pulls away and notches the head at your weeping entrance. "Iisa. Ours."

You bend forward and drop your mouth over Ezra’s turgid length just as Din pushes inside you to the hilt, his fat cock stretching you beautifully. You both groan at the stretch and tight squeeze, respectively. Din pushes his forehead into the dip between your shoulder blades and grinds his hips forward, staying sheathed deep.

“Oh! Oh, gem, my dear, your mouth– please!” Ezra paws at you desperately when you lift off to gasp, but you take him back in eagerly when he tugs on your shoulder. His stomach tenses to hardness when he lifts his head up, lapping at your apex while the rest of you is stretched tight around Din’s girth. His tongue traces where you are joined and Din makes a low sound that is barely human. Ezra’s hand can’t be still- he roams it over you and Din each, finally squeezing the Mandalorian’s muscular ass and encouraging him to thrust a bit more energetically, which drags your clit over the bounty’s tongue with each push.

“Oh, fffffuck,” Mando grits when you clench around him at Ezra’s additional stimulation, milking his cock with a rhythmic squeeze. He pulls out slowly, snapping his hips back in and pounding against that deep spot, high up by your cervix. It makes your eyes roll back, your jaw slack around Ezra's girth as you suck in a breath, and you feel the abrupt urge to pee and clench that much tighter, which just makes Din do it again.

Ezra’s tongue drags upward down Mando’s shaft and over his tightening balls, sucking one fuzzed globe into his mouth before Din pulls back and repeats the thrust, tilting this time to hammer repeatedly into that same spot. Ezra’s hand slides from around your hips to your belly, pressing up between your hipbones with the backs of his knuckles, pushing your deepest spot down until you're sure to shower him with your cum if Din keeps up the punishing strokes. He returns to sucking your clit, kneading the bud carefully between his tongue and teeth.

“Boss, I do believe our gem deserves to be filled with your seed. Pump this gorgeous pussy full, so I can clean it up,” he demands, urging Din on. His thrusts become more brutal, his hands gripping your hips turning to a bruising strength, and you love it.

“Yes- yes, Mando! Fill me up. I need your cum,” you gasp, thrusting your hips back on him. He growls beneath the helmet, the sound coming out flat and that much more grating for it.

You can feel your orgasm building low and insistent in your belly, the swelling heat and pressure of it blooming outward into every extremity. Ezra flattens his tongue against your clit, giving you something to grind against when Din knocks your hips forward. You suck weakly at the cock in your mouth, using your hand to move over what you can’t manage in the moment, more applying tongue and wetness and heat than anything akin to actual talent but Ezra seems to be loving it. His hand presses up on your belly again just when Din nails you deep and holds your head down on Ezra’s dick, and you– break.

Your cunt grips tight around where Din is buried deep, all the way to the hilt, grinding in firmly and giving you something substantial to milk. A gush of your juices flows into Ezra’s mouth as you choke on his cock, your whole body clenching and releasing in a full-body orgasm that steals the last wisps of your breath.

With a chest-deep groan, Din’s head falls forward again with an unforgiving thump of helmet against your shoulder. He grinds deep, coming with a ragged gasp as your insides milk an orgasm out of him that seems to last forever. He absolutely floods your channel, his movements making it gush out with every thrust and grind.

Ezra pops his hips upward, sucking greedily on your soaked folds, lapping your combined come, and dragging his tongue hungrily up the hard rib on the underside Din’s cock. Gasping and still rock hard, the Mandalorian pulls out of you and buries his soaked and still- hard length between Ezra's lips instead.

When he pulls out, Ezra picks up a low chant, murmuring depraved things about the taste of your perfect pussy, the salt of Mando’s come, your heat and wetness and deliciously slick insides. He buries his tongue in your channel, sucking more come out. The bounty thrusts up into your throat once- twice, and Din finally lets you pull away enough to breathe just as Ezra floods your mouth.

“Ffffuck,” Ezra cries out, turning his face into your thigh as he shakes through his orgasm, clinging to your body collapsed onto his. “It has- oh! Been a long time since I received such attentions, gem- forgive my abrupt– fffffff! Finish!”

You barely have time to swallow before Mando is already dragging at your hips again, rutting up along the cleft between your cheeks despite your still-pulsing cunt. He’s still rock hard and stifling a petulant groan. You pull away and he whines but lets go, only to turn his demanding hands on Ezra.

“Let a man breathe, Mando,” the man gripes, swatting uselessly at the hands grabbing him.

“I’m sorry. It’s– maybe you should freeze me,” Mando says to you, and you scoff.

“Not a chance,” you pant, and flop to the side off of Ezra’s chest.

He keeps his hand braced on Din’s ribs, asking for a moment to recover. “Would an intercrural rut suffice while I catch my breath, tin man?”

Din simply growls at the nickname and crawls back down over the other man, rolling them to their left sides and spooning up behind him. You watch, enraptured and overheated, noting with curiosity how very similar their bodies are. The mushroomed tip of Mando’s unceasing erection peeks in and out of the clench of Ezra’s thighs, made slippery by the slick you left on Mando’s cock. Din’s fingers claw at Ezra's chest and belly, holding him almost too-tightly. You feel the ghost of that grip on your hips and groan, feeling yourself leak afresh at the memory.

“Iisa, please. Are you alright? Did we–?” Din presses his forehead against the knot of Ezra’s right shoulderblade, growling at his loss of words. He can’t focus. Luckily, you and Ezra are more clear minded, if no less under the influence of extreme arousal.

“I’m fine, Mando. Just need a breather. Not everyone has highly- trained stamina and endurance,” you chuckle, rolling back toward the men. Ezra lays on his left side, hooking his ankles together to tighten the squeeze. Mando seems to appreciate it; his hips stutter forward sharply.

“I can’t- I don't think I can come like this. It’s not enough. I need– inside something. Friction isn't– enough,” he grits out, hands wandering down Ezra’s torso to drag his top leg back and up over his hip.

“Easy, boss. You can't go jammin’ that weapon in there without some prep, and something to ease the way. How about you come up here and abuse my mouth again, and we’ll see to the other, after, if you are still in need? Our gem and I seem to be faring better with the foggy mind. Perhaps another orgasm or two will help you?”

You prop against the adjacent wall of the hull and watch in abject fascination and want as Din crawls over Ezra, shoves him to his back, plants his knees in the man’s armpits, and feeds him his cock.

“Maker,” you sigh, a hand drifting thoughtlessly to cup your throbbing cunt. The tease of the touch is enough to make your legs shiver shut around your hand.

Ezra, for his part, takes Mando’s cock down his throat skillfully and a little greedily. He talks - filthy things- when Din slides out too far. It makes Mando growl and thrust deeper when he goes back in, which makes Ezra grin around his girth like he's won something.

“What I wouldn't give to set my mouth on every inch of you, you gorgeous thing,” he says before being choked on the fat tip nudging past his tonsils. You watch as the bounty simply rolls his head side to side to make it fit better, even deeper. Mando whines and shakes his head, already desperate for a kiss and struggling to recall why his damned helmet is still on. “I bet you are pretty, aren’t you?” Ezra drags his hand up Din’s torso, thumbing his nipples, tweaking one meanly.

“Tight body, pretty cock- why wouldn't your face match? It’s quite a sin and sacrifice to keep that mouth all to yourself, don't you think? Though at least you are willing to share this,” he tongues the throbbing head of Din’s prick bobbing against his lips, sucking the head methodically, working the tip of his tongue into the slit and grinning with Mando whines and shivers at the focused stimulation.

“Iisa,” he pants, gripping Ezra's wrist as his hand slides down his belly. He pins the man’s arm to the floor above May's head and thrusts deep and slow a few times, relishing how deeply Ezra takes it in his throat without struggle, though tears are brimming in the corners of his eyes. Din catches his breath when he slides all the way out and holds himself there, balances on his knees and one fist, the other hand still pinning Ezra's.

Your eyes are locked on the way Ezra breathes like a fighting bull up at him, nostrils flared, brow furrowed, fingers curled around the back of Din’s hand, jaw stretched wide around his girth. Your own fingers are absently strumming your seam, gently stimulating yourself back toward desperation. Din calls your name and your eyes flick up to meet the impassive visor, in stark contrast from the rest of his body language, broadcasting his need.

“The lights,” Mando prompts, and your breath punches out of your chest. He's going to take it off.

Belatedly, you reach up and slap the lights off. The only glow is from various controls dotted around panels in the hull, red and blue and a dim, grimy white that gives off the impression of shadows only- no details in the bleached space, only black form over an indistinct background. You hear the helmet grate across the floor and the wet sound of a mouth on something before Ezra (you think- they sound so similar) groans low and needy.

You crawl back to the pallet and find the men where they were, only now Din is bent double and plundering Ezra’s mouth with his tongue instead of his cock.

“Boss, I strongly– urge you to give our gem the gift of your mouth while you can. Let me attend to the fires down below,” he pants between kisses. You reach out to card your fingers through his hair and can feel that Din still has him fully pinned. In the next breath, Mando has you swept up to his chest with both arms around your back and he licks into your mouth, groaning into you as Ezra swallows him again, a pioneering finger tracing over his hole from behind.

“Cyar,” Din breathes against your lips. “Sit on his dick, while I fuck his mouth.” He grins against your lips when Ezra groans in disbelief beneath him and you scramble to obey, giddy off the high of feeling Din smile against your mouth, rather than hearing it through the vocoder. Din dismounts Ezra’s chest and turns, pinning his arm again, under a shin this time, and feeding the bounty his balls while he strokes himself. He hears you slick Ezra with your cunt by sandwiching it between your seam and his belly and rutting along the length before you position yourself over him.

You grip Ezra in your hand and can already tell the difference, even in the dark. Ezra’s cock is a bit leaner than Din's, though they are remarkably similar in both look and form. Each the full length from your fingertips to the heel of your palm, both uncut and a ruddy brownish-pink and flushed at the tip, framed with a thatch of tidy, dark curls and nicely bundled balls. Mando was perhaps a bit girthier, but then so was he compared to Ezra’s malnourished and ill frame.

When you line up and drag your dripping cunt over his length, you can feel Ezra’s whole body vibrate with a groan that is echoed when Din pulls back. He feeds Ezra his cock just as you sink down on the man’s length, ripping a desperate sound from his throat which vibrates around Mando’s root. Din can feel the forearm pinned under him scrabbling for something to hold onto. He adjusts and drags the hand up, holding it against his own chest as he tips his hips down. You grind forward, settling Ezra deep inside you.

“Come here, iisa. Give me your mouth,” you gasp at the softness of Din’s voice, unmodulated and hopelessly endearing. Your mouth meets his, cautious but desperate. He encourages you to o0en your lips, so he can tease your tongue with his own. It's not skilled, of course- how could he be? But the kiss goes from exploratory to hungry in seconds. Din licks into you, a low growl rumbling in his chest as Ezra swallows around him. He works his hand from Din’s grasp and grips your hip, rutting up into you and sucking desperately at the length on his tongue.

“Make him come,” Din demands, breathy and demanding, and you nearly swoon. Your core tightens impossibly when Ezra thumbs your clit, winding tighter until it snaps and your stomach unspools in clenching and releasing spasms. Your limbs feel heavy, legs no longer wanting to work as you try to lift and drop again. Under your hands, Ezra's belly is taut with tension, his hips working against your weight for a few more thrusts to meet his own end now that you have been sated.

Ezra clamps a hand on your hip and whines around Din, the onslaught of sensation almost too much before he simply- snaps. You feel him pulse and spill inside you, painting your insides that are already slick from Din’s come moments before, and you drop your weight, seating him deep, overwhelmed and incredibly tired. Mando is not anywhere near finished, though. The thought occurs that he might fuck you both unconscious before his stamina and the spice wears off.

“Kriff,” you groan, sliding forward off Ezra’s cock, your gushing-slick passage leaking all over his soft, lean belly. The man sucks harder at the length in his mouth and Din moans- the sound heady and desperate without the flattening of the vocoder- and spills on his tongue.

“Oh kriff is– is right, iisa.” Din flops bonelessly to the side, facing up but with his head by Ezra’s hip. You are still straddling Ezra's waist, but you list to the side as Din tugs you down between them

“You know my name,” he says quietly, brushing the hair off your sweaty face with soft, callused fingertips. You snort and duck your head.

“Yeah, ah- I think the kid thought it by accident once when our connection was open. I think it was an accident anyway. He makes sure I can't see your face in his memories, but that one slipped through, I guess.”

“I don't mind.” He pushes your foreheads together and you sigh, relaxing.

Ezra simply lays there and enjoys the afterglow, his face buoyed on your chest. The worst of the spice is out of your and his system, and the pain is creeping back into the wound and the knot of his shoulder. He speaks up:

“How are you faring, boss? Has the spice run its course through you, or are you still in the throes?”

Mando hesitates for a moment. “I am still painfully hard, though not as– inebriated as I was. I can- maybe make do,” he starts to pull away but you and Ezra tug at him.

“I said you could fuck me and I meant it,” Ezra chuckles, and the wind punches out of Din’s chest.

“I– yes. Please,” he asks.

“Well then. Did we find that slick, gem?” Ezra is already levering up to his elbow, letting Din paw at his hips til they are both on their knees. You pat around the floor, corner to corner, in search of the slick in the dark.

“Can you balance like this?” Mando checks in, pushing the bounty forward. He holds Ezra ‘round the ribs and supports his weight with ease, showing his strength. Ezra drops to his forearm with a grunt and wriggles, testing his weight and balance, before nodding.

“Yes. Just go slow, to start. I’m neither as turgid nor as numb to oversensitivity as you at the moment, boss. And I have already come twice under your and your partner’s skilled attentions, which I have not done in one sitting in a terribly long time.”

You crawl forward and pass off the vial of slick, accepting a searching, heated kiss as Din cups your face and drags you closer on your knees. “Lay under him, iisa. Meshurok,” he teases, calling you as Ezra does, in his own tongue. “Let him bury his face in these,” his hands drop and cup your breasts, kneading playfully. You huff and press another kiss to Din’s precious mouth before ducking to do as he says.

“Well hello there, gem. I can’t see you, of course, but I can tell by the firming of this beautiful cheek against mine you are feeling quite ebullient.” Ezra nuzzles your face, tucking his nose under your ear, and gasps at something Mando does from behind. You feel his hips lift and push back, and a low groan pushes out of him into the soft skin of your throat.

“Come here,” you say, gripping his sweat-damp hair and turning his face up to your own for a sweet kiss. “I’ll hold you- just relax, pretty boy,” you coo, carding your hand through his sweaty hair. You tug at the blonde patch until he exhales hard and melts against your whole front.

“I don't think that particular label has ever been granted to my generally- undesirable person,” Ezra mumbles, gasping quietly again when Mando adds a second finger. "But I can't deny I do enjoy it coming from-- you."

“You must not have met many folk with eyes, then,” Mando quips, scissoring his fingers before Ezra can retort, though the one-two combo punches a breathy laugh out of him. Even if Ezra looks an uncanny amount like Mando, himself, he can compliment the man without it feeling too much like narcissism. For as much as they look alike, they are quite different.

“I agree,” you murmur into Ezra's soft hairline. The gentleness of you both gets to him, quicker than anything else has. Gets under his skin and into his heart.

“That I can – Oh! Oh shit, oh shit-” he pants, rocking back on Mando’s fingers now, hardening against your thigh, despite feeling like he couldn't possibly. He ducks his head to your breasts, nuzzling and then slipping his mouth over the soft swell of one, panting at what Mando’s doing from behind, gripping at you while trying to balance his weight. You push your chest up into his face, encouraging him to change to the other breast, sucking your nipple into the heat of his mouth. You arch into the stimulation and can’t help but tighten your knees around his ribs.

Din feels animalistic. As bad as any time he's been separated from the kid in a battle, but different. He wants to rut, fuck, come, mark– rub his scent and grip bruises into flesh. He ruts his painfully hard cock against a spare curve of flank and curves his hand upside down, his palm at the top of Ezra’s cleft and fingers still curled inside, draping his weight all along the man’s spine. He nuzzles his nose and mouth against the back of Ezra's head, into his dark, short curls. The man smells like your soap and antiperspirant, and the flame of desire in Din’s chest blows wide into a bonfire of pure lust. He rubs his face all over the back of Ezra’s neck and shoulders, reaching under him for you, palming a breast, stretching forward and sandwiching the man between you for a kiss.

“Mando,” you sigh, scritching at the scruff under his chin. You unerringly find the sparse spot on the left side and press a kiss to it. Ezra growls a little between you, feeling somewhat neglected, and turns his head into the right side, finding the matching spot there and dropping a wet smear of a kiss on it.

Din presses back up to his knees and withdraws his fingers, pushes back in with three, bares his teeth at the stretch around his knuckles. Ezra makes a desperate sound and ruts back on him, his voice muffled by burying his face back in your chest.

“I could expire here and now, and consider myself surprisingly lucky, even imprisoned as a bounty and missing my dominant arm. Between you two is heaven itself. Mando,” he cries out at the firm curl of fingertips over his prostate. “Get in me or do that harder, you are driving me to distraction, gentle-man-!” He demands, only to be cut off with a wheeze as Din fixes his slicked cockhead at Ezra’s softened entrance and pushes just inside.

Slowly, inexorably, Din presses onward until his hips are flush with Ezra's rump, all of him inside and suddenly wildly overheated. He waits, still, until Ezra tips his hips up in invitation before moving back and then returning with a much more sharp thrust.

“Oh– stars, just like that,” Ezra chokes, nuzzling into your breasts again, licking slow over one curve to find the tip and latch on. He can’t keep his balance and paw at you or reach for his cock, but he enjoys the assault of sensations for now. Mando is so deep inside, stretching him nearly to the point of burn but not quite. Despite the spice clouding his frontal lobe, Din did a good job stretching him to ease the way. Each pass over his prostate causes a jolt of nerves that light up his whole belly and down his legs. His shoulder pain is long forgotten. There is only your soft skin beneath him and Mando’s hardness inside him and raw strength behind him.

Mando sets a firm, rhythmic pace that has his hips slapping hard into Ezra’s spare ass as he drives forward, but he knows Ezra is not getting the stimulation he needs. It takes several minutes to convince himself, what with the drugs in his veins telling him otherwise. Eventually Din slows to a halt and pulls out. He chuckles at the disgruntled noise from above and flops to his back.

“Come here, May,” he grabs a lean thigh and hauls the man over in a show of strength, nearly dumping Ezra onto his face before he can steady himself.

“Kevva waits, you could have just said come ride me instead of yankin', boss! I can barely fuckin’ balance as it is.” Ezra grouses. He gets his knees under himself and adjusts his weight, surprised to find plenty of room for movement under his thighs with how broad Mando appears in all his armor.

“Sit,” Din demands, pulling on the man’s hips. Ezra quirks a grin in the dark and resists, planting a hand square on Din's heaving chest.

“Gem, you hear that? He’s losing those pretty manners of his,” Ezra huffs a delighted laugh when Din growls a please at him. He reaches behind himself, clumsy with his off hand, and lines that fat cock back up along his well-slicked crease.

“Yes, please,” Mando groans and his hips jolt upward as Ezra slides down his length, impaling himself in a smooth glide.

“Mando, this magnificent- turgid- specimen could cure ailments, I swear to the Maker. Every- spot- stimulated so perfectly. Oh!” Ezra pants as he grinds forward and back experimentally, his belly jumping under Din’s hand at the consistent torment on his swollen gland. Din fists his cock and Ezra growls: “Gem come here, gorgeous gemstone. Come here and join us.”

You have been watching their shadows move together since they rolled and adjusted, cupping between your legs where the flesh is hot and swollen, wet with the dregs of the spice in your system. You roll to your side and then up to your knees, dipping over Din’s face for a thorough kiss before following his hands, letting him push your face up to Ezra’s. The bounty cups his hand around the back or your neck and hauls you up, his hips rolling insistently against the length he's impaled on.

“Kiss me, sweet thing. I need– nngh!” Ezra shivers around a particularly brutal thrust against his prostate and kisses you like you’re his last meal. You're both growing tired, the spice waning from your systems, but the buzz for one more orgasm is just there under your skin. You let him lick into you, taking over with your own hand where he is fucking forward into his fist and then back against Mando.

“Yes, your hand- so soft- thank you, gem!” He plants his palm on Din’s heaving chest again for balance and works the cock in his ass, lifting and dropping, grinding and rutting. Mando makes some truly impressive sounds before pawing at you.

“Come here, iisa. Turn. Across- now sit. Now fuck him,” he hooks his thumbs around your hip bones and pushes you down, facing him and straddling his belly, in front of Ezra. He grabs Ezra's cock and guides it into you, making you both gasp.

“Oh– Kevva! I will not last in this state, Mando! Gem- your pussy is as perfect a fit as I could hope for. So wet- warm! Ngh!” Ezra, bless him, reaches forward and strums your clit messily with three fingers, working you up where you are already dripping and panting between them.

Mando grips your hips, wishing he could see, but he will take the trade gladly if tasting you both- kissing, licking, sucking- is in the cards. He realizes belatedly that he has not got his mouth on either of you yet. If you all survive this round and don’t tap out, he decides he will.

You howl as you come hard on Ezra's cock, collapsing forward into Din while you catch your breath behind his palm (he’s clapped it across your mouth to avoid you waking the kid). He scoops you close and pins you to him with his arms wrapped around your back, sucking your lower lip between his teeth, holding you still for Ezra to fuck into and ride Mando’s cock until they both explode.

“Oh shit- oh shit, oh shit ohshitohshit–” Ezra grits his teeth and his ass clamps down, sitting down as hard as he can on Din’s hips to get him deep, milk his balls empty while Ezra paints the swollen, hot edges of your cunt with the last weak dregs of his come. The last of the spice fizzles out and the ache bleeds back in with nothing to stymie it.

You each fall to a side of Din, starfished in the floor and chests heaving. Every bit of each of you is wet and sticky and exhausted. Din whines in the dark, a small movement catching in the dim glow of the lit buttons.

“I’m still fucking hard,” he complains, sounding more offended than anything. “Dank farrik. This is ridiculous!"

You can't help but laugh at the complaint. You pop your head up, confused by Ezra's silence. Is he asleep? You suppose it’s not entirely out of the question; you feel awfully close to sleep yourself. But then he speaks:

“Boss, I am not sure either of us has the stamina to go again, but if you can be patient a short while, I believe I can manage for you to use me to find your end, if nothing else.”

He hums in contentment when Mando glides a hand up his belly and chest, scritching fondly in the scruff under his chin. Din catches himself being so casual and forward and curses internally, forcing his hand to drop. He must really be out of it. Not only fucking a bounty but dragging you into it just because he didn't actually look at the bottle of meds he'd bought. The self- doubt creeps in, lingering like a thick cold slab on his chest until you curl a leg between his own and slide your whole front against his left side.

“Ezra. Get over here.” You grouse sleepily, reaching across to curl your fingers around his wrist, laying on his own chest, and pull at him til he rolls to his side and snuggles in close.

Your warmth and gentleness dissolves that slab on Din's chest as thoroughly as the kid does. He's come to rely on it, which feels dangerous.

Soon, Din notices that you have stopped moving and your breathing has evened out. He huffs quietly in vague amusement, warring with the concern he feels over the perpetual throbbing in his cock. The mental fog has dissipated, but he’s still horny as fuck and rock hard to prove it.

“Does the sonic on this vessel fit two?” Ezra stirs and interrupts his thoughts. Din blinks and turns his head to the other man, running a hand possessively down his side. His skin is starting to crawl again with heat and need, already. He feels like it will never be out of his system. "Not really."

“Nested together as we will no doubt be, we could probably manage. Your partner took such thorough care of me at the service station, and I hate for those efforts to remain reversed due to these -- sticky circumstances. A clean- up would not go amiss. I can feel your seed leakin’ outta my ass already, though you are assuredly about to plant more.”

“Shut up,” Din grouses, rolling them, making Ezra snort. He lays on Ezra, belly to belly and knees on either side of the man’s narrow hips. He leans heavy over the bounty and mouths over his collarbones, pressing his teeth into the knotted muscle of Ezra’s damaged shoulder. “Can I have you again?” he asks into the other man’s mouth, breathy and heated.

“Ah, you found your tongue and your manners again, Mando.” He chuckles with Din bites down on his lip with a growl. “Yes, and let it drain the last of this accursed spice from your system. You have spilled so much under its spell. I don’t think I can manage to come again, but you are welcome to try. At least until the oversensitivity assails me.”

Rather than responding, Din licks into his mouth, opening his jaw wide with a thumb pressed to his chin. The kiss is heated and exploratory, stealing Ezra’s breath away handily. He wriggles under the weight of the Mandalorian, worming his hand between them to grasp the man’s cock and give him a firm circle to thrust into.

Abruptly, Din grips Ezra by the elbow and hauls him over to his belly, caging the man with his own forearm braced on the ground beneath Ezra’s good shoulder, his stump against the ground and his face and upper chest mashed into the blankets. He is thoroughly pinned, especially once Mando plants his huge palm on the side of Ezra’s head, fingers tangling in his hair to keep his face pinned to the side. If he even possibly could at this stage, Ezra wagers he’d be a hair’s breadth from coming again.

Din spits on his fingers and wipes the wetness over the head of his dick, smears it across Ezra’s hole, and presses in. Ezra whines but grits his teeth, knowing that if he can get over the first painful rush of frayed nerves, it will turn sweet again. Thankfully, Mando is tiring out after four rounds in what must have been scarcely more than an hour or so. The prospector feels the first twinge of something good, low in his belly, and tips his hips up against Mando's snapping thrusts. His cock hangs heavy and not quite half-hard, thoroughly spent between his thighs. Din has a fistful of hair in one hand and a death grip on Ezra's hip with the other, keeping him pinned with his only arm rendered useless. All he can do is take it, and that unlocked a particular kink the bounty had been secreting away for a long while.

Too soon, Ezra gasps and his hips turn down with a sharp pain. “Too much,” he chokes, and thankfully Din has the wherewithal to withdraw gently and let him go. Ezra pants into the bedding, spooling back out from how tightly he’d clamped up from the rush of pain. “Apologies,” he says, and accepts the pat to the back of his thigh with only a little chagrin.

“Stop apologizing.”

At Ezra's sharp complaint, you had stirred with a deep breath, stretching on the pallet beside them. “Oh,” you sigh, enjoying the shapes of them moving against one another in the dark. “Mando, Ezra is too sore. Come here,” you yawn, scooting closer to them. You see Din pause, pulling away from the bounty and reaching for you.

“Thank you, gem. I am indeed weary, and the pain is inching back in with the spice on its way out. Forgive me, Mando.”

“Nothing to forgive,” Din murmurs, and latches his mouth onto your seam. He tastes himself and Ezra, you at the edges. It's intoxicating. You squirm under his attention but spear your fingers into his hair and he leans into it with a whine. He craves the softness as much as the spice is making him crave the roughness. Once you're sopping again and your juice is running down his chin, he pushes himself up to mantle over you, hooking your knees around his narrow hips.

You run your hands up from his waist, curving over firm muscles and soft skin, the puckering of scars here and there. You wind his sweaty curls around your fingers and tug, eliciting a groan. He shakes his head, finding everything at once- his head being touched along with all the skin contact, his own flesh crawling with need and the sweat pouring off him- overbearing.

You release him and let your hands travel again. His rump is small but fits blessedly in your palms, and the feel of your fingers closing over his ass urges him on. Din hums against your mouth and slides the length of his cock through your folds, a tease, smearing the wetness gathered there. He notches his head at your entrance and slides in.

Din drops down over you, elbows planted by your head, your thighs spread by his hips, knees and calves hooked over his ass. You reach up and run a hand up the side of his neck, over an ear, dragging him down for a searching kiss. He growls into your mouth, needy and tiring out, unable to purge those tablets from his system just yet.

“I want you to come on my cock,” he says, panting into your open mouth. You grin against him, exhausted and unsure if your body can enmven manage another orgasm. “Felt so good earlier. Again,” he demands, pushing up to slide a hand between you, flatten his thumb on your clit.

“Mando, I'm not sure I can. I’m so tired,” you whine even as you feel your core clench around him at the added stimulation.

“You can. What else do you need? I’ll give you anything, iisa. Tell me,” Din implores, bending his neck to lick down your throat. He nips at a collarbone, recalling dimly that you had thoroughly enjoyed Ezra’s mouth on your tits earlier. He ducks his head and noses, laves over a plush mound until he finds the peak of your nipple and sucks it into his mouth.

“Oh! Both- the other–!” You cry out, back arching as he hits that spot deep inside your cunt and sucks just right on your nipple.

Instead of switching, Din grips Ezra by the upper arm and hauls him over to his belly beside you. You drop a hand to reach for him too, and your hands bump when Din fists a hand in the man’s hair and drags him into place latch onto your other breast, all without pausing in the suckling of the one between his own lips. Ezra catches on quickly and, after a quick peck to your mouth he obeys Din’s demanding grip.

You sob out at the feel of it, two strong mouths sucking, nipping, and laving over your sensitive breasts while Din pummels away at your cervix, thumbing your clit, stretching your abused pussy on his cock and taking what he needs.

You feel a tightening, an impossible new winding-up in your core that seems to take all the muscles in your limbs with it. Din brushes your clit with his fingers again and you shatter, screaming behind your teeth, your face buried behind your palms to keep quiet because of the kid. Ezra mouths his way up your neck and claims your lips again, capturing your noises, letting Din drop his face into your sternum while he finds his end in your impossibly clenching insides. You’ve turned into a limp doll, boneless with exhaustion and at least four orgasms- damn, you lost count.

“Maker,” you pant, struggling to catch your breath with the weight of Din’s collapsed heft on your chest. “We’re disgusting. Dammit, Mando, I just washed him!” you snark, making the Mandalorian giggle into your skin. You crack up at the sound, struggling to laugh quietly as you feed off his suddenly effervescent joy. He rolls to his back between you and Ezra, the lot of you sweaty, sated, bone-tired and delirious.

“I’m not sure we can go to the service station just yet, iisa. I’m still –”

“Hard as a pike?” Ezra interjects, dropping his hand between Mando’s legs, earning a gasp. “Go to sleep, man. The lust seems to be over, even if your biology hasn't caught on quite yet.”

You all lay there a few moments more before Din’s soft snores are echoed by Ezra’s. You snort at them and roll to your knees, keen on a thorough wipe-down and a nap if the kid will stay down.

But of course, as all kids are prone to do, he wakes the minute you finish yanking Din’s bottoms back on. You’d wiped him and Ezra down with a damp cloth and slung the new bottoms on the bounty’s lower half, but Mando’s compression leggings were a squeeze for him, even when he wasn't passed out and deadweight.

Sighing, you scoop the kid up out of his hammock and take him up the ladder with a snack, leaving the lights off and Din’s helmet beside his shoulder on the pallet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I still have your arm,” Din says, apropos of nothing. He is checking the star chart as the Crest exits Coruscant’s atmosphere.

“Excuse me?” Ezra whips his head around to stare at the back of Din's helmet.

“Your arm. I slabbed it when we came back. You were unconscious.” Din sets the course and turns to find Grogu in the bounty’s lap with a tiny claw fisted in his tunic, staring up at him curiously. Ezra has his remaining arm hooked around the kid, making sure he doesn't fall off his perch on the man’s thigh.

“Why?”

Mando shrugs. “In case you died. Easy proof of destruction. But now… I'm thinking I might drop you somewhere else for a few days. Go to Canto Bight, turn in the arm, collect the lesser bounty. Pick you back up.” he pauses and the flat face of the helmet stares back at Ezra for a long moment, waiting on a response. He tips it to the side. "If you're interested."

Ezra, understandably, is flabbergasted. “Why?”

“Iisa likes you. The kid likes you,” Mando tips his forehead down at Grogu gurgling up at him. Ezra’s eyebrows shoot up and he stares down at the child. “Despite the fact that you never shut up, I like you. If you're not interested, I can cut you loose and still get the bounty.”

“No I– I appreciate the sentiment, Mando, I do. You’ll forgive my wariness, considering the circumstances. I am not accustomed to men wanting to keep me around for anything more than manual labor or to warm a bed, and even then only for a short venture. If I understand you- you are meaning for a while?”

“Until you want to leave,” Mando shrugs. “Same as any of us.”

Ezra chews his lip and his brow threads together. “And what does this life look like? A one-armed former prospector with little in the way of domestic skills, and a sharpshooting force-sensitive mechanic, and a force-wielding xeno child, and a bounty hunting Mandalorian living on a small gunship together with one bunk?”

To his great amusement, Mando actually snorts at him and ducks his head. Ezra grins and waits. “Exactly that. We make port most days, stretch our legs. When we’re in the stars, we stay above lightspeed and head to the next job. I’ve got- friends- all over, especially in the Outer Rim. Finding places to lay low for a few days isn’t a hardship.”

Ezra nods and thinks of you. They’d woken and Din had put on his helmet and tugged on his thin liner shirt and helped Ezra into his own tunic. After, they had discovered you dead asleep in the cockpit with the kid playing with his ball in your lap. Mando had scooped you up, limp as a ragdoll, and you'd remained sound asleep as he had lugged you down the ladder and into his bunk.

Ezra thinks he would very much enjoy more chances to wake up like that. Or in a tangle of all of you.

“Where will you leave me?”

“It’s a bit of a back track but you have two options. I can hide you with my covert on Glavis, or leave you with a friend on Tatooine. To be honest, I'd rather leave you on Tatooine. Harder for other hunters to find you in the Dune Sea, and environmentally safer for you. My covert is currently under the ring world, and footing is dangerous even with two arms for balance.”

“And you will come back?”

“Yes. I will leave iisa and the Child with you, if you like. My trip to collect the bounty from Canto Bight won’t take long.”

“Mercy, man. You’re offerin’ me a whole new life. I can’t simply accept that it’s just because you three like me.”

“Would you rather take your chances with your pissed- off investors?”

Ezra scowls at him. Din grins behind his visor. “Don't toy with my heart, Mando. You know I would not. It’s just going to take some accepting.”

“Well. We’ll be at Freetown in two days. Think on it. If you decide not to stay with us, I'm sure the Marshal can put you to work in his town somehow."

"And what? You would schedule conjugal visits?"

Mando snorts and turns back to his charts, setting coordinates for Tatooine. "If iisa wanted. If that's your intent I'd rather not leave you in Freetown, though. It might be a bit awkward for me to negotiate frequent visits."

"Ah, your lost love in the desert?"

He bites his lips against a knowing grin when he sees Mando's shoulders flatten with tension, but is surprised to get a response. "Something like that."

"Well then. A few days to stretch our legs and a pickup would suffice. And I'll let you know if it stops being sufficient. Do we have an accord, boss?"

Din turns around and eyes the hand Ezra has outstretched. After a beat, he takes it.

"Deal."

____________________ end _____________________

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